Will

February 20 2017.

I don't want to alarm anyone, but I think I have spinal meningitis.

Last night after Evan left, I got almost an instant achy feeling all over my body.

I took some Extra Strength Tylenol, but I still feel a little achy.

I mean, it makes sense that I have it, over just yet another cold.  Because I've had a cold like five times already this year, and previous years I got sick once to twice a year when the weather would change.

So it's gotta be the spinal meningitis.

Since people die in like 24 hours once infected, I am preparing this as my last will and testament.

I, Zach Keller, of sound mind and body (minus the meningitis), hereby declare the following:

Julia C Almond is allowed to take a selection of my wardrobe on the condition that she wears it with love, and doesn't sell anything to Plato's Closet.

The remainder of my clothes can be gifted to the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum Of Art.  The pieces that remain can be decided among the list of pre-approved worthy people to see who gets what.

The rest of my belongings can be handled by my mother.

I would like a wake, open casket, where I am dressed in the Thom Browne floral onsie.

The services shall be open to all, and I would like all who are willing to say a few words (I'm kind of expecting for some real exceptional words here, but if that doesn't happen I'm dead, so I won't know).

Then I would like to be cremated, and the Thom Browne floral onsie to be donated to the Met as well.  This way if anyone asks, where would you ever wear this, you can say, "to the most beautiful and touching wake I've ever been to."

The ashes can be scattered really any old place, because that doesn't matter.

I believe that's everything.

Oh yeah, the debt that I've accrued, see what my life insurance policy through work covers, anything else, I'm sorry.

I don't know how to sign off since I'm dying, but I guess I should act like everything is normal.

Until Tomorrow.