Ducks! Get in a row...

Although I have been lectured ad nauseam regarding my lack of a positive attitude, I continue to forge ahead with my most morbid pursuits regarding my health. Seriously, how positive do people expect me to be given my condition?

I'm sorry that I have yet to achieve that most noble plateau of sunshine and lollipops people expect to see in the face of someone with a defined expiration date. I'm not putting on a brave face and looking into infinity with a reserved Mona Lisa smile. I'm not happy about dying.

But I refused to deny it as well.

I know this to be a fact. Much like the old cliche about the certainty of taxes.

Granted, I may be rescued at the last minute and survive the final reel, but even that would be a short reprieve. All sagas come to an end. Some just end sooner than expected, and leave you wanting more.

My point, and I do assure you kind reader, that I do have one, is that whether my flame is snuffed out tomorrow or 20 years from now, I need to set certain things in motion now. I need to be prepared.

While I busy myself constructing lists of fun things to experience before my final curtain call, I am also laying the foundations for things of a rather pragmatical nature as well.

I'm planning my funeral.

Morbid much?

Not necessarily.

I've always had a quirky sense of humor to say the least. To say the most, one may go so far as to describe my humor as inappropriately offensive. I'd split the difference and just say I'm a twisted child.

So with that in mind, I have decided on an equally disturbing send off for myself. I want my funeral to be enjoyable. They say you can't have a "funeral" if you omit the "fun." Okay, that's a lie. They don't say that; just I do.

I want my funeral to be a pajama-jama! No one is to wear black. If someone wears black I will come back and haunt them everytime they use the restroom. And I promise I WILL stare.

Attire should be appropriate pajamas. I myself choose to be dressed in pajamas should an open casket be warranted.

Forget flowers too. Flowers are sad. There is no room for sadness at Anna's Pajama-jama Funeral Extravaganza! Instead, attendees will be provided with crayons and paper in order to draw kindergarten caliber illustrations and well wishes (or bad wishes) that will the be hung on the wall for all to enjoy and laugh at.

Everyone will be encouraged to share embarrassing stories about me, and make fun of me. I figure it's the least I can do. I've been dishing it for so long, I might as well take it... Lying down! Ha!

I don't want this to be a depressing occasion. I'm depressed enough going into this, and I'm sure I've depressed my loved ones enough with my moodiness. I just want to throw one last party.

I want the last memory I leave behind to be that I made my friends and family wear pajamas to a funeral and draw with crayons.

I don't want my life to be mourned.

I want my goofiness to be celebrated.