A Plot of Earth
You’re given a plot of land and have the financial resources to do what you please. What’s the plan?
Owing to the fact that you’re still doing yesterday morning while I’m sleeping my way through the small hours of your tomorrow, I get my first inkling of the current DP from posts on the subject that show up in my emails (the DP itself having expunged my name from its list of those worth notifying. Sic transit Gloria as I have said before). So I get it in abbreviated form, and this morning, it’s A Plot of Earth.
Call me morbid, but my immediate thought was, Are we planning our funerals now?
Not that I have anything against the idea, generally speaking. It takes the pressure of those suddenly faced with need to dispose of your mortal remains in an ‘appropriate’ manner when it’s the last thing they want to think about; reduces the risk of family squabbles over what ‘appropriate’ means, and avoids the possibility of being farewelled to the swell of some lugubrious dirge when you’d much prefer to sashay out to Whistle a Happy Tune. But really, it’s my belief that funerals are strictly for the benefit of the living, so if my lot want to have a rip-roaring party and scatter me to the four winds, that’s fine with me.
And anyway, further investigation shows that this isn’t what the prompt is about. You’re giving me a plot of land to play with. Nice thought, but a bit late. I live in a unit (an apartment?) precisely so that I can avoid the responsibility that comes with a plot of land and a house built on same: cleaning the gutters, maintaining the fences, cutting the grass… In fact as a prerequisite to planning my funeral, my N & D would probably have to slash their way through the undergrowth a la Prince Charming, not to kiss me awake, but to find out if I’d died yet. (Woops! there we go again!)
I’d be happy to give it away, though. The land, I mean. The local nursing home was built without an outside space (shame on them!) and I’ve long thought that if I won Lotto, I’d buy the adjacent block and give it to them for a residents’ garden. Or perhaps I could reclaim the land that fronts the creek and let it return to its native state instead of sitting there denuded and shivering; victim of a greedy developer who cleared it of decades of old forest and then…what? Discovered the locals were right, and his whole proposal was a nonsense? (Shame on him, as well!)
But you know what? I’m a bit tired today. (Went to bed too late.) So how about giving me a plot of prime Sydney real estate that can sit there and appreciate with no effort from me? Then when the question of my funeral does come up, my heirs and assigns can sell it to finance the huge shebang I’ll plan in the meantime, gold coffin and all…