Wake: Genre Undetermined

The wake was set for three in the morning, because the widow was inclined to pinch her pennies, and she thought that if she waited until the bars closed, she wouldn't have to spend so much on alcohol. This should not be mistaken for a lack of love for her husband; she moved through her days on autopilot, functioning automatically and well, but there was nobody overseeing the factory. Fortunately, her routines had the force of law, and while she wept and wailed and curled up in a ball inside her mind, her body smiled and thanked people and bought groceries and arranged events. So she was rather irritated, or at least the machine was irritated--when the first of the mourners showed up at 11 pm. she had been simply sitting in a chair beside the casket, part of her weeping and the other part wondering if she needed to order more ice--

Inspiration: *cringe* Some weird combo of "Wicked Dickie" by Rasputina and Desperate Housewives.
Story Potential: Low. Nothing here sparks my interest particularly much.
Notes: I like the idea of somebody showing up terribly early for a wake--but why or what happens I couldn't say.