A fan of irony, I plan to die in the living room.
I'll first set a folder––containing my will and a list of passwords––on the coffee table. Beside the documents, the Kindle will be powered up, cycling through MP3s of Tibetan monks accompanied by singing bowls. I'll unfurl my yoga mat on to the freshly dust mopped hardwood floor, perform a final round of sun salutation, and lie in shavasana, dreadlocks spread wild around my face. Monastic choirs will ohm me into eternity.
A fantasy death to end a fantasy life.
Where will you die?