Vacation is a sweet, sweet thing. You get to travel around without a care in the world pretending that your perfect little niche will be waiting exactly how you left it when you get home. And then you GET home. And you realize that it was all a lie. That the weeds still grow - in fact they grown triple time in your absence, that the mailman still delivers bills marked "urgent", that the small pile of laundry that you left has now quadrupled into what resembles my 9th grade year float (Hawaii in the form of volcanoes on a big old hay wagon) and it takes everything in me to not buy chicken wire and plaster of Paris and do a mini replica because that sounds less painful than actually washing the soiled clothes that smell very similar to the place where I imagine my bacon comes from.
If I die in the next 24 hours, please, for the love of God, put this picture in my obituary. It is the most accurate representation of myself that I have. Underneath will read something along the lines of "Cause of death unknown. It appears that she was suffocated by a toppling mound of laundry unlike anything seen before. We are not ruling out asphyxiation. Chicken wire and plaster of Paris were found by her side. She was naked in the fetal position. Loved by many, understood by few." Yes, I want full disclosure in my obituary. I find nothing more annoying than "our sweet Jason went back to our Heavenly Father at the tender age of 28". WHAT? Sweet Jason - ? Sweet Jason - who suffered from a heroin overdose and stole from every member of his extended family in the last few years? Sweet Jason - who loved to ride his motorcycle at high speeds in wet conditions with no helmet? I need details, people. Don't do this to the world. There are so many questions that will never have answers, that when I read the obituaries I want to walk away with not only what the medical examiner has determined, but what Aunt Pat thinks really happened. "They say it was a heart attack, but between you and me, he's never been the same since Sheila left him for their son's girlfriend, Lou Lou. It was a broken heart, if you ask me." Yes Obituaries should read something like an article from US Weekly or People including the time-line of pictures: One as a cute innocent child, the graduation picture with bad hair and the palm tree backdrop, the token stumbling out of the club drunk, wedding pictures, family pictures, security camera pictures from that one seedy hotel, etc. You get my drift. All of this accompanied by "close friends reveal" and then some saga about the love child that was born just after a brief humanitarian stint 30 years ago in Zimbabwe.
All I'm saying is that if my Obituary doesn't read like a Lifetime movie script. I don't want one at all. You are now all accountable to fulfill my dying wish.
Back to the laundry.
