Try not to die weird

Death is sweet release, right? 
Being surrounded by family after a long life would be nice, but the chances of that happening are slim. You could fall in a tree well or slowly atrophy from a disease you have yet to discover.

I’m not trying to be Debbie Downer but there are a lot of freak accidents daily and even if you don’t leave the house there are millions of ways to kick the bucket that you haven’t even contemplated: swallowing rocks, overeating and then choking on your own vomit (poor Mama Cass), accidentally stabbing yourself with a steak knife, being poisoned by rancid milk in the fridge, your cat burns the house down while you’re sleeping. 

Then there is everything that could happen when you leave the house. Falling to your death from a rooftop while having sex, for instance, or being crushed by a pile of coffins. Isadora Duncan, in 1927, got her long scarf stuck in the wheel of a moving car and broke her neck. Don’t be like Lady Isadora Duncan. In 1939, Sirkka Sari fell down a chimney into a furnace after mistaking the chimney for a balcony. Don’t be like Sirkka Sari. 

Probably the worst thing about dying in a freak accident, other than dying so unexpectedly without saying farewells or writing a will, is the fact that you’ll look really stupid. At your funeral people will just pretend they don’t know how you died, or they’ll say things like “being crushed by giant stacks of books could be worse,” “who knew pants were lethal,” and “imagine drinking yourself to death with carrot juice … fantastic.”

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