I have a very healthy contempt for life. My days are filled with requests for assisted living, memory care and nursing home queries. Some folks are in a race to get stashed before their end of days.

Some know they will have a very long pull and are furiously trying to cram finances together so they can waste away in style.

Some religious types think all that pain and agony is part of the plan. Whose plan? I would love to meet that guy. Is he the one who killed my dog?

It’s a sin to off yourself, we’re told. We’re told we’re signed up for the whole shooting match. It’s good for the soul. Might I add…..bullshit.

I might sound a little wacky but I’m looking over the edge myself, and I have time to think about it when I run in the wee hours. (It’s 3:30 am and I just ran through a cloud of cigarette smoke, so who’s kidding who?)

Do I want to be somebody’s potted plant at $6,000 a month? Hell no! Who do we think we are? I had a rather unhealthy discovery with a client recently, willing to pay 10 to 12 thousand every thirty days to hole up in luxury. For as long as the process took. He was 72.

As we were hanging up, he mentioned he was going to the cemetery to make sure his plot was in a nice, shady spot and being cared for. Is it me? Let’s take up a little more geography for a couple hundred years shall we?

As far as my view goes, I will refer to my mother, who always said, “God helps those who help themselves.” If I get the tap, or the nod, I would like to exercise all of my options.