ziplock

It started with a text:

Dear Thelma,
Will you run away with me?

Love,
Louise

To which I replied:

Only if I can drive.  Love, Thelma.

She agreed.

I followed it up with:

Maybe we should fly in case we both want to drink.

I heard the tabs popping from here…she agreed.

Then the conversation – somehow – moved on to dying/burying/cremation.  I know, twisted conversation for someone who lost half her body weight in tears when she picked out flowers for her husband’s pre-planned funeral.  Will and I have this little “extra” policy and one day he asked me what I was going to do with it.  I (sort of) jokingly told him I was going to have him made into a diamond.   Just the carbon.  I’ve threatened to put the rest of him in a Ziploc bag and carry him in my purse so whenever I get ticked at him, I can just take a pinch and stomp on him.  He rolls his eyes and I continue to design my setting.  Don’t get mad, he’s cut corners on me, too.  But not as many because I plan to come back and haunt.

Apparently, decorative wood boxes are the way to go.

These aren’t hip.  But duuude…they’re cheap.  I had to clip the “box tops for education” coupons for “pimping for private schoool’s” first fundraiser.  Hope I didn’t nick any of the bags….that gets into double bagging and expenses I’m not prepared to absorb.*

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*I’m just kidding….or amI? 😀

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