If I get that way, I’ve told Mrs BwanaNdege to get me a couch down by the lake, like Burgess Meredith had in “Grumpier Old Men”’
Leave me there with my fishing tackle, and maybe some bait.
Come back in the Spring, sweep up what’s left of me, put it in a pine box, say a few kind words over the remains, smile at the good memories, please forget the bad.
Oh, maybe bury me with a box of red wigglers to give them a head start. I fugure that I owe them something for all the fishing I’ve done.
I won’t be in that box!
As romantic as that scene was, i believe most times than not, it's a painful and horrible thing to be left alone if you plan on whithering away such as that. To each their own.
I wouldn't mind your scenario but throw in a heart stopper in my glass of sweet tea. :)