On lazy Sunday morning the wife and I were quiet and thoughtful. We were sitting around the breakfast table when I unexpectedly said, “When I die, I want you to sell all of my stuff … immediately.”
“Now why would you want me to do something like that?” she asked.
“Well,” I said, “A woman as fine as you would eventually remarry and I don’t want some other asshole using my stuff.”
She looked at me intently and finally said, “What makes you think I’d marry another asshole?”
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