After another day organizing paperwork, I can finally report I have twenty-two separate piles of highly organized tax receipts…with totals!
Tonight they will be on a plane to Oregon to reach their final destination at the CPA’s office.
I am so happy to have them out of here.
Tax time can be so stressful, and it only seemed fitting that while I killed myself getting it all together the Wild Boar and I discussed death.
More specifically, how we wish to be buried. Taxes bring out the best in us.
We both agree we want to be cremated. I have always had this completely irrational fear of being buried in the ground. I just don’t want to be in there. I know, I’m dead….but I just don’t want to be in the dirt with the bugs.
Plus, I’m too practical. I really dislike how families are often guilted into purchasing elaborate and very expensive coffins in times of grief. It’s wrong, wrong, wrong.
I’m happy to be in an urn, and not one of those crazy expensive ones. Just a classy silver one. Would it be wrong to pick it out myself?
However, I don’t want to be sprinkled somewhere. I think. I want to be on a mantle.
However, what happens after generations pass and no one who knew you is even alive? I’m guessing you get shoved in a closet or worse…the trash….GULP.
I know, I’m dead. Who cares. I just don’t want to be in the ground.
The Wild Boar wants to be sprinkled. I’m not sure I could pour him out.
I’m a pack rat.
What I Was Carrying On About One Year Ago Today: Well-Witchin’ The Vineyard