Today was the day of the inspection of the “new” house (I say new, but it was built in ’66). As DH and the inspector dude were checking things out, I took some measurements and such. In my wanderings, I looked at a number of items that have been left behind. You know the ones—the little things that we really don’t want to move, but don’t know what else to do with them. It’s those little things that get added to an offer as “removal of personal items.” The normal things were there—a dresser, a couple of fishing rods, some outdoor toys and, well, Grandma. 
Yes, there it was a burgundy velvet bag with a gold rope around the top. On the side of the bag was embroidered the name of a local funeral home. I am very curious (read nosy) so I had to check. I reached over and carefully pulled on the gold cord and took a peek. Inside the bag was a rose colored marble urn. Now, I am curious, but not so curious (read inquisitive) that I would open the urn to see if it really was Grandma inside. This was an assumption I was willing to make; after all, I don’t know too many people who purchase urns prior to needing one. I really am hoping that they remember to remove this one personal item in particular before closing. Either that or we will need to charge her for living in our adult foster home.
Yes, there it was a burgundy velvet bag with a gold rope around the top. On the side of the bag was embroidered the name of a local funeral home. I am very curious (read nosy) so I had to check. I reached over and carefully pulled on the gold cord and took a peek. Inside the bag was a rose colored marble urn. Now, I am curious, but not so curious (read inquisitive) that I would open the urn to see if it really was Grandma inside. This was an assumption I was willing to make; after all, I don’t know too many people who purchase urns prior to needing one. I really am hoping that they remember to remove this one personal item in particular before closing. Either that or we will need to charge her for living in our adult foster home.
7 comments:
Oh my.
Juanita, that's hilarious. Now, if you get chickens, you'll need that ash to absorb the chicken ammonia. But more seriously, if they don't retrieve Grandma, she might like to be sprinkled around the yard. I had to sprinkle one of my tenants in the dog walk of my RV park because no one wanted his ashes.
PS He loved dogs.
Oh Patrick, really. :) I don't think jgf wants to sprinkle these ashes in the dog walk. Grandma might come back and haunt her!
So my suggestion is, if no one wants these ashes, then take them to some very nice, beautiful and secluded spot and scatter them.
There is a possibility there is nothing inside. ...a remote possibility, but still, there's a lot of weird people out there.
Contact you local PD and make a 'found property report" they may come and take it.......or you could try rubbing the side and see if Barbara Eden pops out, in this case CALL ME and I'll come pick her up.
That is just creepy. It's also sad.
Oh how strange!
We have discovered the truth. Grandma has been released to drift with the waves of the sea.
Darn! We can't charge room and board!
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