The Paperwork That Makes It Work

Purple-striped Bow Tie o’ the Day was on display when we had a second appointment at the attorney’s office, to help us get our when-we-die concerns in order. The process is somewhat lengthy, which seems weird since our “estate” is straightforward except for a couple of things. We don’t have more than one house anymore, and we don’t collect cars or yachts, or stamps or coins. We do not have a fortune in cash locked away in a secret safe hidden behind a picture on the wall—or anywhere else, for that matter. We do have books, but there’s no money in having them. There is value in books, but not money. I doubt anybody we know has the space to adopt the whole bigly herd of slender volumes and bigly tomes we have acquired over the decades. It’s a huge job to look after thousands of books under one roof. We’ll have to do some deep thinking to divvy up the books. We know a ton of readers and I think we have a pretty fair idea of who might be interested in what. Still, it’s sad to think of our books living with other people in the not-too-near future. Yes, it’s the circle of life, but it kind of sucks anyway—to not be alive and reading, in the thick of things on the planet.

And then there is my neckwear circus. Exactly who will inherit the thousands of ties and bow ties I’ve amassed over the decades is an entirely different story. It’ll be challenging to divide them and/or designate them to go anywhere, because I can’t think of anyone who shares my adoration of the critters. Maybe I can get the Guinness Book of World Records people to send somebody to declare my neckwear collection to be the bigliest tie/bow tie menagerie in existence. That could increase the collection’s value, making it worth a tidy bit of pocket change. Rowan could then sell my collection on ebay and make enough money to buy himself a gallon of almond milk and a vegan Slim Jim to eat. Or he could just decide to open up the Tie Room as a museum and charge admission. That ought to be a negligibly lucrative money pit venture. Of course, Suzanne and I will be dead when anything happens to our belongings, so it really won’t be any of our business anymore. And that’s probably a good thing. All we can do is love the stuff we love for as long as we’re here. 📖 👔