late 30’s equals end of life planning

Last night, in a fog of the good cough syrup and benadryls, i realized that I didn’t have a will and/or plan of action if I kicked the bucket tomorrow.

 

For example, would someone know to call my clients to tell them I died?

Who has my mom’s phone number? I’m guessing she would want a call.

Who get’s my dogs?

Who gets the 19 boxes of Christmas shit?

Crap- how many days could i be dead in my house before someone realized that I kicked the bucket?

 

I probably need to figure this out. Since I’m single, no kids, no husband, there is no one to figure this stuff out. I need to write things down. I need to have a “Call list.”

I need to figure out who gets my collection of 90’s CD’s and trashy romance novels.

 

Here is what I do know:

1.) Someone needs to call my parents if I kick the bucket.

2.) Someone needs to take my dogs.

3.) Someone needs to delete my email account and social media.

4.) I want to be cremated, and my ashes divided into thirds. One will go to my parents to deal with. Second batch, Nang will know what to do with. Third- field of bluebonnets with Dixie Chicks Wide Open Spaces playing.

5.) Someone please throw a boozy party after I kick the bucket. I’m talking lots of carbs, lots of chocolate, and lots of cocktails.

 

This wasn’t a depressing post or anything huh?