Turning to dust

So, this weekend, my internal odometer clocked another revolution around the sun and I promptly turned to dust.  I must admit, I was a bit surprised.  I knew it would probably happen eventually, but I thought it would be a more gradual process.
 
Was I concerned?  Sure!  As a pile of dust, I'd leave a pretty big mess all over the recliner.  I probably wouldn't get to use the remote anymore.  Obviously, my family would celebrate and immediately redistribute the becan and cheese. 
 
I decided to make the best of it.  I'd never been a pile of dust before and maybe I would like it.  I scooped up some me and made dust elephants.  (I'm not much of an artist.)  It's a good thing I'm not allergic to me.  I've known so many people who are.
 
I was starting to enjoy this.  I mean, I didn't know how long I had before I was vacuumed up and tossed out, but then again, who does?  I wondered if the inside of the vacuum cleaner bag would feel cramped.  I got up and walked slowly so I didn't spread myself all over the house.  I explained to my family that I had spontaneously turned to dust and they should probably not turn on a ceiling fan.  They thought I should get a shower in order to make their cleanup easier.
 
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that I hadn't turned to dust after all.  I just needed a shower.  I know.  I share your disappointment.
 
To make matters worse, the kids had already divided up the remaining becan and cheese.

The hard part is trying to prevent other versions of me from sneaking off with my becan.  Past Bubbas are standing around wondering what happens to them in the future.  Future Bubbas know exactly where I hid my becan horde.  It's rather difficult to effectively hide something from one's future self. 

Fortunately, a Past Bubba found the solution.  If there's something I want to make sure that Future Bubbas absolutely cannot find, I ask my wife to put it away.  Once the item has been put where it belongs, it is impossible for a Bubba to find.