1036. The late Aunt Hilda
© Bruce Goodman 26 April 2017
I really am terribly excited! My husband’s old aunt has just died. Aunt Hilda. She was such a grouchy old bag. I couldn’t stand her. Every Sunday we would have to visit. We didn’t want to get left out of the will, and she was so rich. Unbelievably rich! But goodness! How to ruin a Sunday! In fact, how to ruin an entire week.
I didn’t bother going to the funeral. Why should I? Goodness knows I had visited her often enough. Missing out on her pre-cremation celebration was a pleasure. And then, later that same day, the will was read. Forty three million! Can you imagine? Forty three million! The things I’ll be able to do! In retrospect, it was worth putting up with her blue rinse every Sunday. You’ve no idea the relief now she’s kicked the bucket.
I’m going to start with a new car. And a new house. Not just a house, as you can imagine. More of a manor.
The only thing I have to do, and rather quickly, is to stop my husband from opening his email. He doesn’t open his email that often. I don’t want him to see the message I asked my divorce lawyer to send last week.