Last week when I was off, my mother called and asked me if I “was doing anything” on Thursday. I hate that question. It’s sneaky. You don’t know whether someone has planned a fantastic party and you’re the guest of honor or whether someone has moved to a new apartment on the sixth floor in a building with no elevators and they need help moving. BTW, it’s never the party.
I replied with a cautious, “Why? What do you need?” That way, if she came up with some job she needed done, I could lie and say I was working. I think I underestimated how bored my mother is because she wanted me to take her to the grand opening of a crematorium/funeral home. I think I also underestimated how bored I am because I took her. Ok, not without argument. I’m like, “Hey, if I take you out, I’ll have to take the offspring, and you know how I hate taking the offspring out in public.” Apparently my offspring have more of a life than I do because only Male Offspring #7,6 and 3 wanted to go. You could almost say they were “dying” to go. Ar ar arrrrr. I discovered later Male Offspring #3 only wanted to go because he thought the crematorium was where they made Cream of Wheat.
As soon as we got there, Male Offspring #6 & 7 tried to convince the mortician dude to cremate Male Offspring #3. Last I heard they were bribing him with $5.99 and a half eaten box of Milk Duds. I have to admit the place was gorgeous. They had high ceilings with pine beams, which I love. Plus cozy fireplaces and large wooden lounge chairs. All that was missing was the Smores. In fact, I loved the atmosphere so much that I told the offspring to cremate me and spread my ashes right there.