Or worse, they might go shopping. They might buy some entirely useless set of pots and pans, ones that do laundry and cook bangers simultaneously.
I'll mourn. I'll even attend your wake in your Jack Skellington jumper and hum Nightmare Before Xmas songs while I weep on your casket and offer to make everyone tea in your memory. I apologise in advance, should I spill tea on your corpse.