Or, at least, trying to get Mr T to Throw Things Away so I don’t have to deal with his crap when he’s gone
Me: Tish’s husband died. He was not doing well when she was here.
Mr T: That’s sad.
Me: She told me – and she wrote in her post as well – that he spent his lucid moments making sure everything was in order.
Mr T: Are you trying to tell me something?
Me: That it’s nice when people don’t leave a mess after they’re dead. It’s considerate.
Mr T: But – if I leave a mess for you to clean up, I’ll be dead and you’re the only one who would know.
Me: I would tell everyone.
Mr T: What? You would?
Me: You’re worried about your legacy? Do you really want your legacy to be, “That guy who left everything for his wife to deal with even though he could have gotten his affairs in order?”
Mr T: No. And I don’t want to be like my parents, who left me a huge mess.
Me: You don’t want it to take me years to close the estate because I can’t find things like the car title? And I don’t know if there is a safe deposit box or not because I find some notes referring to a safe deposit box but then no other information and I have to call all the banks where you have accounts to ask? And because I have to shred your sex diary so your nieces and nephews don’t find it? You don’t want that?
Mr T: Nope.
Me: At least you haven’t disinherited me in your will but still made me executor.
Mr T: So it could be a lot worse.