A woman who was near death insisted she be buried with her stamps. As she passed away, she saw a white light and followed it until she found herself in a mystical place, surrounded by men and women who wandered about admiring all kinds of paper . . . beautiful paper on shelves stretching as far as the eye could see . . . and all the rubber stamps one could imagine. Overjoyed, the woman turned to a lady who was running her hands with pleasure over a rich and costly paper and said, "This is a wonderful place! Is it Heaven?" The lady replied, "No this is HELL. There aren't any ink pads.”
I think the moral of this story is to ask to be buried with stamps AND ink. Hee! Hee!
I've attached a sample (technique: Cuttlebug Smoosh) to this post so it won't look so boring.