“You can collect the client from the address I gave you from eleven tomorrow morning, thank you for your assistance”. I hung up the phone and walked across my bedroom, lighting a cigarette as I did. I’d been meaning to give up cigarettes for years but had never quite got around to it.
Besides, it’s not every day you arrange your own funeral, so I was not about to worry about one little cigarette. I needed time to think anyway, I had just finalised the arrangements, but I had a niggling feeling that I’d forgotten something. The funeral director had been quite charming. He’d given me a discount on the package price as I would not require the chapel of rest part of the service. I had a feeling he had wanted to ask for the reason behind this, but of course was too polite to ask me directly.
With a smile, I thought he’d have probably had a heart attack if I’d explained the funeral I was arranging was my own. Although pre-arranged funerals were more common these days, I feel the number of clients arranging their own funerals with less than twenty four hours to spare would be quite low.
Stubbing out my cigarette in the ashtray on my window ledge, I turned to walk to the bathroom where I would draw my final bath. I assumed that the funeral home would probably clean my corpse as part of the preparations, but still, that was no reason not to tidy myself up somewhat first.