In conversations with people when I speak of “My Attorney” as in “My attorney will be in touch” or “My attorney has advised me” I am in actually speaking of the guy that helped us with our wills 10 years ago. This cat couldn’t pick me out in a room full of felons. However uttering those two words “My Attorney” in general conversation makes me feel grown up and just full of responsibility.
OK, so the other night I decide to review my will.
That great piece of legal tender that dictates who gets all my stuff when I’m gone.
Of course my stuff will only get distributed after probate and being contested by my distant and somewhat removed relatives.
As I’m reviewing this document it begins to dawn on me that after 20 years of trying to act like a grown-up all I have that’s worth anything is an electric sandwich maker and my Goo Goo Dolls concert DVD. So I’m sitting, reviewing, sitting, thinking, reviewing, and sitting this endless cycle replays over and over again and again. Finally I put pen to paper and begin writing, scribbling across my legal pad like a man on a mission. Then suddenly I realize that my will has become a suicide note.
1 comment:
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