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