I have a milestone birthday looming in a year and a half, and I mentioned it today as we were all walking to the car together. "What should we do for it?"
"Have a big party," said Iris.
"No, go on a trip. Go to Greece!" said the Sober Husband.
Lola interrupted. "I have just one question for you. What do you want done with your body?"
"Oh, Lola. Do you have to ask that in such a cheery voice?" So nice to know that Lola is cheered by thoughts of disposal of my corpse.
Maybe Greece is more dangerous than we know?
Maybe it was Lola's polite way of suggesting plastic surgery.
Yeah, I thought she meant cosmetic surgery as well!
I routinely do that sort of thing to my husband!
"We should have chicken for dinner."
"When you die, do you want to be buried or cremated?"
My mother insists it's good to talk about this and plan ahead. You know. Just in case. We've only made it as far as deciding who gets our pets.
I think I prefer the cosmetic surgery route.
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