You think I jest?
Nay, verily: it is SIZZLING hot out there, on the streets, in the park, in the grassy yards. Hoooleee maquerel!
Just staggered back in the house. Fortunately, I had enough presence of mind to NOT take the dawg with me when I left the Funny Farm a couple of hours ago.
That was because I’d planned to go by the nearby office of a lawyer-for-all-trades, as it were, and ask him to help ensure that, when I croak over, everything in my sticky little hands will transfer smoothly, quickly, and with ZERO hassle to my good son.
In theory, it should: I have no other heirs. None that I know of, anyway. But who knows? We’re talkin’ bucks here. What with the wonders of inflation, the house alone is worth in the vicinity of a million bucks. And I want every single one of those bucks to go straight to him.
Don’t you know that someone, somewhere will jump into that fray and try to rip off a chunk of that bread dough?
Yeah.
So. Get lawyer now. Get will scam-proofed. Get everything set up for my excellent son.
Navigating to said lawyer’s office, in the absence of a car, entails traipsing through UNGAWDLY heat. And alas, at this point — a little after 4:00 in the afternoon — this old bat is in no shape to trudge over there right this minute.
Tomorrow.
Let’s hope I live until tomorrow, eh? 😀
I’ll charge over there in the morning, along about when I hope they open. Not open yet? Coffee shop lurks right next door!
My son’s father is a lawyer…of the retired variety. What I’m hoping is that I can set things up with this new guy, and then DXH can review whatever we come up with to be sure it’s OK. If not, the two can work together to make it OK.
This would evade any question of a conflict of interest. And yet still be sure someone who cares is overseeing things.
Í hope.