Death Called

Death or Beth? - cute girl with blonde hair or tall guy in a robe with a sickle?

That still cracks me up (a line from Just Shoot me). I love TV.

Dave over at Blogography is thinking about Death with all of his new found responsibility. Funny, because the thought of death is partially what prompted me to start this blog which I never seem to have anything good to write about it. I digress...

In February I decided that I wanted to up the man's life insurance and decided to up mine as well - the amount up meant all new physical/medical tests for the both of us. I've become accustomed to such a posh lifestyle with my man's earnings that I wanted to make sure that when he dies on the couch playing Zelda that my life won't have to change much, except that I'll not have to make cheese dip anymore.

Lo and behold we are both out of shape, so we don't qualify for "premium pricing", not that I really expected to, but I did not think that we were in the category of "could drop dead tonite". Apparently HE is, but I'm in the middle. So in order to make sure that my kids are well provided for we have tons of life insurance now, but it is costing a butt load of money. Besides the money, the thought that we are relatively unhealthy people has me thinking about death and how, unlike Dave, I am completely NOT ready for it.

My last dying wish would be for someone to go and TORCH my house, because if anyone had to go through and see what a shambles my business paperwork is in it would rock me in the grave. I would never want anyone to unveil the facade I've spent years building up. I'm SO not together - business or personal. Most of my friends think I'm so with it and they are so wrong. They wonder how I do it all and I secretly want to scream - because I feel like a total loser. I do just enough of any one aspect the make it seem "together". My kids know I'm a wreck, but luckily I can stiffle them with donuts. They've promised to never tell anyone and they know that if they do I'll rip the lifegiving batteries from their Tamagotchis.

I don't know if I'll ever be ready for death - right now, being a mom I feel like I can't die. If Death showed up at the door I would have to give him a cookie and send him back home because I've got too much to do to have company over. I would rather be anything (paralyzed, dismembered, etc.) than to have to miss out on what's to come for my girls. How could I not be there for them? That in itself would be worse than death for me. Of course, they stand to get so much money from my death that they could probably soothe their pain with the purchase of a Mercedes.

So death, I'm not ready, but I can refer you to Dave and he gives out free t-shirts.