Will, I am

I’m housekeeping this week. I am getting my life into some semblance of order before I leave on my trip.
I’m sure it’s a combination of the raining skies and the full moon, so the feeling of  grey mortality as I itemise my final will and testament is keeping me a little quiet.
It’s a necessary task. At the beginning, it was fun itemising all the bits and pieces in my life, then it got serious as I looked at what my two mini men would be left with on the chance I depart this life before I make my final payment on the yacht moored next to Packer’s.
I’ll confess now to thinking about who would get the cutlery and the toaster, so I’ve taken my retentive qualities to another level.
It’s important to get your affairs in order, children or not, single or otherwise. You can leave your stilettos to a local drag queen or your favourite CD to Stonewall so they have to play it every Thursday night in your honour.
It’s a great idea to let someone know about your will, especially if family and partners aren’t apparent in your life, otherwise your pooch will have to sit behind his doggy bowl outside Palms to get small change for his dinner.
Upon mentioning this task to friends, you just hope they don’t arrive on your doorstep in the next few days, champagne in hand, eyeing off your art or furnishings, telling you how fabulous you are and what size is that vest and would it fit them?
And the poor soul who has to go through your things. The porn in your cupboards, the nudie pics on your fridge, and the incessant phone calls they’ll have to take from your phone advising of your deletion from the nocturnal ‘buddy’ list.
Who knows, perhaps they’ll find the perfect partner. See, we do play matchmakers right to the end.