I'm configuring my sons bed tonight so when I die he can just throw me in the trash.

I'm not an asshole, I've got a good reason for this.<br><br>My wife was a beautiful woman, but kind of a narcissist. A few years ago, when she was 41, she decided she wasn't going to age anymore. She started doing everything to look younger, like Botox, lots of facial treatments, plastic surgery to tighten her skin, etc.<br><br>This is the important part, she chose to be cremated and have her remains stored in a beautiful-looking ash pot that she had picked out herself. I was a little surprised when I saw it but she laughed and said it was for her vanity, because she didn't want to be ashes in some plastic bag or cardboard box.<br><br>Then just about a year ago, my son was in a terrible car accident. He's recovering well, but the car was totaled and we had to replace the bed when he got home because it had been converted into a gurney to get him out of the wreck. <br><br>So that's where the configurable bed frame I'm talking about comes into play. I bought one because it can be easily adjusted into different positions, it can vibrate (to help him with pain), and it's just generally a really nice bed.<br><br>However, I know that when I die, I want to be cremated and have my remains stored in an identical-looking pot in the bedroom, right next to hers. <br><br>That's why I've been meticulously documenting everything about this bed frame - every screw, every Allen bolt, every tool I've used to put it together, so that when I pass, my son will know exactly how to disassemble it, load me in, and then easily put it back together again.<br><br>It might sound weird, but it's all about the details.<br><br>Edit for clarity: I am buying two identical pots, hers is not for me.