Any time I read stories about people found dead in their homes, I start to worry about the future.
They found a B-movie actress in her home, mummified, possibly left unnoticed and forgotten for as much as a year.
Straight out of an episode of Bones.
One day, they will find me, crusty and dry as a piece of jerky, wrapped in a Snuggie.
And while even in death, I would be happy to have Booth standing over my body, the idea of rotting into the couch is gross.
The good news, I always have a gay to take care of me. The bad news, those gays are a fickle lot. However, I'm pretty sure I could con AA and JM into letting me live in their garage. They've made a gay pact (a gact, if you will) to live out their days together should neither find lasting love. Two gays and their matching pugs. I'll even be kind and walk those pugs for them.
My hope is the pugs will look out for me and alert the men to my demise before I can rot into the concrete of the garage. And, added bonus, it will be easier to scrape me off the concrete and easier to air out the garage, which will not detract from the value of the house.
I think this is a very practical attitude.
You forgot a key point in the death without anyone knowing for years issue -- you need to make sure your gubment check (welfare, social security, whatever) gets direct deposited into an account that others have access to. That way once you start mummifying we can still reap the financial benefits of your life -- without paying any of the expenses. Kisses!
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