When my mom called last night I thought either she read her will on the Internet and wanted to call and confirm validity, or she was calling to thank me for her Mothers’ Day gift. While neither were the case, she did laugh over the fact I added my gas receipt to her card. Yes, that’s right, I love my mother $44.12 dollars more than Ben does. Proving once again I am a superior being. As it turns out she wanted to talk about something far more important. My death.
“Thanks for driving down yesterday. I’m upset I forgot to have you, Matt and Ben sign some paperwork.”
“What paperwork? If you’re trying to adopt us out I think you’re too late, we are, after all, adults now.”
“Sweetie, I’ve not gotten rid of you yet, so it’s not likely going to happen, besides I’m counting on you to take care of me when I’m old. I figure you owe me. I want you guys to fill out a living will, so if something were to happen to you I’d know what your wishes were.”
“That’s probably a good idea. Is there somewhere in there I can request male strippers and vodka on my deathbed? But why doesn’t Jeff have to fill anything out? You’re getting rid of him, right?”
“Sarah, please be serious about this. Jeff has a wife that can legally make his decisions.”
“So let me get this straight, because Matt, Ben and I don’t have spouses you’re punishing us with homework?”
“If you’d rather produce a husband that’s fine too. I’m emailing you the paperwork tomorrow, so you better hurry and find a man.”