When I die

It’s never been a question of IF, only of WHEN we will depart this “shitty world” (Marlboro Man from Harley Davidson & The Marlboro Man).

So…WHEN I die, I hope those around me make some good choices as to any funeral or memorial service they plan up for me.

Yeah, I could plan it myself right now, but A) Who can be really sure it will happen the way they want it & B) I gotta let someone else handle it where I’ll know if I need to come back & haunt them.

Anyway, I hope whoever does it gets someone who actually KNOWS me to get up and speak.  I don’t care if it’s the garbage man, if he really knows me, I’d rather him speak than some preacher who came and shook my hand and said, “Bless her heart.”.

And should whoever plans it pick out a preacher to “preach” my service, I hope like hell the preacher doesn’t make folks think he’s fixing to ask the plate to be passed.  Admit it, if you’ve ever lived in the South, you’ve been to at least one funeral service that you thought any second they were gonna start taking up a collection for the cemetery fund…If I’m remembering correctly, I HAVE been to a funeral where they DID ask for donations for the church…

And while I think it’s of the utmost importance that everyone be saved and go to Heaven, a funeral is NOT the correct type of service to call for invitation.

Let’s face it, 50% of the folks who show up at my funeral are only going to be there to see that I’m REALLY DEAD anyway.

And no matter what I want, I would bet my butt if I went first, this is the song the husband will have played…


Reader’s Digest Version

Worked 15 hrs Thursday.  Hurt my back in the process catching a falling television to keep it from breaking the legs of a resident.

Spent a good portion of Friday at the doc’s trying to find relief for the back.

Doc told me to stay out of work over the weekend.

DON hit the ceiling, as she’d planned me up a special weekend (read: work my ass off because all the other nurses were calling in or covering other shifts).

Found out I’m no longer a Large in shirts & 10 in pants…Medium & Size 8 now, TYVM.

I haven’t seen purple alligators in pink tutus dancing on the ceiling thanks to the mixture of pain meds & muscles relaxers…YET.

My best friend’s dad died & the memorial service is this afternoon.  Pain or not, I’m going for her.

Supposed to work tomorrow…we’ll see.