Can I talk to you for a minute? I’m gonna need a favor. It involves my underwear drawer, a vault in the basement, a false wall in the garage, a chalet in Val-d’Isere... No, no, no, sit down! Hear me out! I’m only thinking of my loved ones and your bank account. I mean, I’m prepared to pay for this. Maybe we could help each other out?
I’ve been thinking. In the case of my untimely demise – and as far as I’m concerned, any demise of mine will be untimely – there are certain, ah, items, that my family/friends/employers need never know about. There should be a service of some sort for this kind of thing, but where do I go, if not to my friends?
I’m talking about whatever I may – or may not – have stashed in the above-named locations. I’m talking about getting rid of these things upon my death. I’m sorry to be so blunt about it, but if not now, when? If not you, then who?
Once we’ve reached an agreement, I will forward the corresponding list of their hiding places.
I’ve made a partial list of the items that will need to be disposed of:
- A stack of “Tiger Beat” magazines, circa 1970s. Tony DeFranco, I will always love you.
- Several pair of “granny panties”.
- An 8” “party favor”. As of this writing, the batteries are new.
- The first season of Temptation Island. What can I say? It was fascinating in a oh-your-parents-must-be-so-proud sort of way.
- A number of “special” plants that may or may not have a cash value.
- One of those giant Ziploc baggies of tiny hotel soaps. I know it’s no big deal really, but just looking at it makes me feel cheap, somehow.
Also, there is, at any given time, items in the fridge and/or freezer that I’d rather not have people know about, including several kinds of Ben and Jerry’s in various states of depletion.
As I said, this is a partial list.
Let me know where you stand, whether or not you can help me out. We’ll speak no more about it for now.
I’ve already said too much.