Birthdays are hard enough without funeral director present
I recently attended a surprise birthday party for a dear friend.
Her husband went to great lengths to organize the event, inviting friends from all over the province and arranging food for the 400 expected guests.
He even made up the spare room as he knew a couple of people would need a place to rest their heads after the big do.
I hate surprises. I am an organizer and filer, unfortunately I forget where I organize and file too. I have Christmas and birthday gifts so well filed and organized that I have no idea where they are, eventually the intended recipients will get them.
The CEO says I can hide my own Easter eggs, and well, he’s right. I have got Easter treats put away and have not yet found them.
As a small group of well wishers were gathered around the entrance to the surprise party palace (they are on their way, excitedly whispered) I took stock of who was waiting there.
I am sure my eyes doubled in size when one of the main people waiting at the door was the local undertaker, in fact, he would be the first person that the party girl was going to see.
I don’t know about you, but the sight of the funeral director at my surprise (getting up there in years) birthday party would make me want to have a couple of extra drinks and deep cleansing breaths.
Then I realized that no one else seemed to notice the irony in this, making me think that perhaps it is my own misgivings about the end of road.
You know the old saying, “Life is like a roll of toilet paper, the closer you get to the end the faster it goes.”
Here’s to buying a mega size roll, and knowing where you filed it.