Tuesday’s Tale

So, the reason the winds were so strong was a cold front had moved in Monday afternoon. Well, by Tuesday, it had decided to stay!

It was still pretty windy and the high only got to 35 degrees F., so being outside SUCKED! I took the trashcan out to the road before I left for work, so I know.

Vicky sent me a text, asking if we could go to lunch. I said sure. So, we went to Time Out. When we were all set to order, she “discovered” she forgot her purse (again). So, I bought her lunch (again). She insisted she would pay me back, but I told her it was a Thanksgiving present.

I had a chicken salad pita with fries (the soup sounded weird) and she had a bacon cheeseburger and fries (that looked fantastic).

Sidebar: She never used to like hamburgers but recently tried them. Now she can’t get enough! Puerto Ricans are a bit strange… But they sure can get their lunch for free!

The afternoon went by slowly. My cubicle buddy Courtney was MIA, so I had nobody to talk to.

But, it was finally five o’clock and I headed home.

I got home and got the empty trashcan back in the garage. I treated Caley, changed clothes and eased into the night.

My brother Jim called me and filled me in with the latest information on my final resting place.

Background: I probably never mentioned this to you, but back when my sister killed herself, my Mother bought a grave for her in the St. Mary’s Cemetery (the cemetery that belongs to the parish we all belonged to and where I attended Catholic school). But, the only available graves at that time were two adjoining plots from somebody who was moving, and were selling.  So, my Mother bought them both. Years later, when my Mother was still alive, she asked me one day where I planned on being buried. I told her I hadn’t given it any thought (who does?) She asked if I would like being buried next to my sister, Anne. I said, “Well, that would be great!”

My theory was that nobody in my family would make a trip to visit my grave, but next to Anne, they have to at least walk by me (probably step or spit on me) but at least I’d be in the family.

She was pleased, and that’s how things stood for years. But, as I get older, I’m trying to get “my affairs in order.” So, I asked my Brother Jim a while back how the whole thing worked. How do my kids prove that’s my grave when I die? Is there like a deed? He said he would find out.

So, tonight, he called to let me know. He said when he talked with the woman at the parish, she said there was a problem. Yes, my Mother owned the plot, but there is a big tree on it and so nobody could be buried on it.

Jim said, “You sold my mother a burial plot that nobody could be buried on?” She said, “You have to remember that was almost 35 years ago and it was a little tree, back then. We could have dug it up, then. But, not now!”

He offered to come and cut the tree down. She conferred with the new Pastor and later counter-offered with another grave site somewhere else.

So, the upshot is that I will be buried in the same cemetery with my Mother and Father, my Brother Peter, my sister Anne, my sister-in-law Betty (and eventually my Brother Carl), my dear niece, Linda and eventually my Brother Joe and his wife, Kathy. But, I won’t be by any of them!

However, we still technically own the unusable grave site with the tree, so I’m thinking of some kind of plaque screwed onto it, saying if you’re looking for John Goerlich, he’s three rows over and 11 rows down or something.

I couldn’t quit laughing about this… So, I called my Brother Carl, my friend B___ and my daughter Melissa. Each had their own creative spin on how react. But, I thought Melissa’s was the best (make sure just before you die to curl up into a ball).

I ate two pieces of meatloaf and two small baked potatoes for dinner and was stuffed (of course). I did my NCIS thing and then went to bed.