Mark and I were talking about death the other day. Because we like to keep it light around here.
How we got to the topic is boring, so I’ll spare you. Once we were on the subject, though, I had some realizations that I thought you should hear. I may need you to back me up some day if I, well, you know… find myself at the great coffee shop in the sky.
Or maybe it’s a bar?
Ooo, I know. It’s a spa! Where they serve coffee and alcohol, but none of it stains your teeth or makes you bloated.
So. As I was saying. I realized that I have some strong feelings on what should happen around here if something [she whispers:] happens to me.
Mark and I frequently look at the world from different perspectives. This is no exception. His take? Hey, I’ll be dead, so you do whatever you want with me and my stuff.
That is not my take. Not at all.
I have some thoughts. A few requests. And just in case Mark is so grief stricken that he forgets my wishes, I thought I’d share them with everyone in the world. You guys can all make sure he tows the line.
Mark must immediately obtain a housekeeper exactly like Alice, from The Brady Brunch. Preferably, he’ll begin the search for Alice before I’m even cold. I feel strongly that he and the boys continue to have clean clothes, an orderly home, and meals.
And the bonus: Since Alice will probably be way better at the household tasks than I am, this will be one less area in which they all have to mourn my loss.
Mark balked a bit, explaining that Alice is sure to be expensive. I pointed out that I will no longer be making twice-weekly pilgrimages to Target. He should be able to find some extra funds in that bucket.
The New Girlfriend
The new girlfriend is not to sleep in my bed. Or on any piece of furniture that once belonged to me. She is not to have any idea what my children eat for breakfast. Capiche?
Mark’s response to this request: Easy, we’ll just get a new house or move into her place, with all of her stuff.
Jeez. I solve your budget issues with Alice, and now you’re all fancy free, ready to move in with the new girlfriend?
I don’t think so, buddy.
The boys need to remain in this house, on our street, with all their friends from the ‘hood. So that means your new girlfriend will just have to wait.
[A note: the next two sentences, should you find yourself reading them out loud, need to carry a dripping with sarcasm tone, coupled with a touch of resentment.]
She’s so fantastic, after all, that I’m sure she’ll understand. It should not be any trouble for her to hang in there until the boys graduate from college. Oh, okay, high school.
And on this subject, I have some advice for my friends and family: If you do not want to be haunted, your story on the new girlfriend will go something like this… She’s nice and all, but she’s not near as nice, smart or pretty as Missy was.
Are we clear?
This is probably clear by now, but in case you haven’t caught on yet: I don’t really care what happens to any of it, as long as Miss Young Perky Boobs Who Isn’t As Nice, Smart or Pretty as Missy (Even With Those Young, Perky Boobs) doesn’t touch it, hold it, wear it, sit on it, sleep on it, or even breath in its general direction.
:: Do you ever have inane conversations with your spouse, only to realize that there’s a kernel of truth in what you’re saying?
:: Have you told your loved ones what you want if the unthinkable happens? Sadly, we’ve been smacked with the brevity and unpredictability of life several times, so we have talked about it. Not a fun conversation, but necessary, I think. What do you think?