Just as death stops for no one, moving stops for no one. And since writing a blog post ≠ packing a box, I gotta go with the box today. Tomorrow I am moving a couple counties over, near Valley Forge National Park. Yay, hiking in my own neighborhood! NOT Yay—forecast is for 95° tomorrow. If any of my moving men die of heat stroke, well… let’s not go there but you do know what kind of a send-off they’d have. A very moving one.
I’ll just share a little slice of my life that’s somewhat related to our favorite topic, end of life. My guilt over having a great funeral plan but still no will finally got to me and I got all the paperwork signed the other day, so I am good to go. Literally.
I emailed my brother, who is my designated Power of Attorney, telling him that should I croak in the upcoming weeks, my will is in my file cabinet under “W.” Like your funeral plan, if no one knows where it is and can find it fast, it’s useless. I’m not doing that to someone.
His reply:
Got you covered.
I am looking forward to my job as Executionist…
Sorry, I meant Executor.
As far as I know, he’s not an especially huge fan of I Want a Fun Funeral, but clearly, the family genes for good humor are there.
Next week I will be writing from my new home. The master plan is that I start bringing all my seedling ideas for this business to fruition, because I know people want more from their last wishes.
You want more… you want a little life in your last wishes — no?!
Hang with me, that’s where we’re going.