Because cheapness is eternal

I tend to think ahead. Like years and decades and eons ahead. And then I speak these thoughts out-loud and expect to be taken seriously. GH usually humors me marvelously during such times. There are exceptions, though. A few weeks ago I wanted to talk about our teenagers and how much cell phone usage they should be allowed. Because it is Just That Pressing of an issue.

Him: "Look, they won't even have cell phones by then. They'll just implant something into your head and it will be AWESOME. Also? What do we do when they develop the technology for people to just start FLYING ALL ON THEIR OWN???? I mean, do we set flying limits??? How much flying per week should our children even DO???"

Humph.

Yesterday the subject of my death came up . . . somehow. I asked him where he would like us to be buried.

GH: Well, since you want to be cremated anyway it doesn't really matter.

Me: Yeah, but you could get me a headstone next to yours, still.

GH: Uh huh.

Me: OH! OH! Orrrr, we could just buy one plot, and then when YOU die they could put my urn in the coffin with you, write both our names on the headstone, and we could be buried together! It would be two-for-one! Think of the savings!

GH: Baby, we've already discussed this. I'm getting buried with my iPod. And there's no way you're getting cremated.

Me: I will if I want to be. And you can stick the iPod in my urn, I don't mind. Along with some comic books and action figures, whatever. Except if you die first, I'm taking that iPod, erasing all your stuff, and uploading all my Sumptuous Literary Adaptations on there.

I'm pretty sure that showed him.

So. What would you be buried with?



("die pod" image from the Rhys Mendes Gallery)

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