The excitement of moving abroad just took a downturn down realistic alley last night.
Man-Beast had a representative from some life insurance company come over. We went over death stuff. Wills. Living wills. Burials … All the fun stuff!
The insurance guy asked each of us if we would rather be cremated or buried.
“Cremated,” I said.
Insurance man made a note of that in his notebook.
Man-Beast thinks for a moment.
“I want to be buried at sea like Osama Bin Laden!” he yells!
Ner. Vous. Laughter.
Trying to move our appointment along (and not writing anything in his notebook), the insurance guy showed us our individual wills and told us all about them. We were supposed to name one main person to contact in case of an emergency (besides each other, because this is in case something happens to both Man-Beast and me.) We are also supposed to name two other, not-so-main people, just in case something happens to our just-in-case-people. The insurance guy talked really fast. He also kept bringing up these “insurance situations” that I would then play out in my head.
Accidental death. Illness. Someone pouncing on me and killing me. He would go off on these horrible situations and then go right into talking about some insurance technicality stuff. My mind was still playing out my accidental death by monkey!
So what this “in case of emergency” person would really be responsible for, I’m not sure? Our money. Our things. Pulling the plugs … All the fun things!
He did tell us they should be people we trust. We both put our parents as our number ones.
Then came the number two and three spots. Man-Beast named his brother and his good guy friend.
But I did not have a number two or three person.
I thought about it, and I really can’t trust my sisters with my money or things. And I have friends, but they are more of cooking club friends, not “I’m going to list your name on my will” friends.
Because the big question is, who do I trust?
And we don’t have a lot of money or possessions. So I really don’t care what happens to my stuff, especially when I’m dead. I’d like to donate whatever I have left, in an Angelia Jolie-ish kind of way.
But who to trust, besides Man-Beast? This will take some serious meditating.
And I really do need a number two and three. Because we all know that if Man-Beast was the only one in charge, my dead ass would be dropped off a freaking boat.