Where there’s a will…
Yes, I’m up at 2 in the morning. There was no other choice the moment my brain asked, “If a dog had wings, would it be called a flog?”
If a meteor was on a trajectory for Earth, and we were all about to die, I’d be looking up the composition of meteors (3 types: Iron, stone, and stoney-iron).
I have to admit that I’ve been taking meteors for granite all these years.
If either dementia or meteors will be my demise, I’ll need a will before the first one hits.
If the second one hits, I doubt that anyone in my family will be worried about who is going to inherit my refrigerator.
In fact, most of what my kids and sister will have to plow through is this:
There is a “Last Will And Testament” inside this house…somewhere. I’ll find it when I’m looking for something else, but that won’t happen until after I’ve created a new one.
Yes, I tried getting a copy of my latest document from the county clerk’s office. They haven’t registered copies of wills for 20 years.
At least now I know how long it’s been since I wrote the last one. The only thing that’s changed are the age of my junk — and my 4-footed family.
Soooo… I scoured for internet for a template I could use in order to create a will. One looked promising. I started filling out the usual stuff; names and addresses of beneficiaries.
When I arrived at the point where it asked if I wanted my digital assets to go to anyone in particular, I clicked, “Yes.” The moment it asked for the names and the passwords, I deleted 10 minutes of work and bugged out of that internet version of the Venus Fly Trap.
- Sure, I’d like to leave all my books to the family member who will see to it that they’re published.
- Yes, I’d like to have a will that says, “I leave all my worldly goods to my family equally. They can decide how they want to divide it up.”
But…but…to whom do I leave my 7 dogs and 2 cats? If my better half gets to live without me, that’s a no-brainer.
Pretty Pittie (the pit bull mutt with the white face) who is the sweetest thing since candy was invented, MUST go to my granddaughter. I’d give her more of my 4-footed family, but her dad is allergic to dogs.
Other than that, I’d suggest either they invest in either an antiquities specialist or a dumpster the size Montana.