After exhausting work, he wants to go to cooking. What he likes most head soup.
The kitchen distracts and amuses. Want a plate?

A scythe can be handy, when you've forgotten your golf clubs. Here are the sources

music, guitar, death

Grim reaping is a 24/7 commitment so when Mr. Reaper finally gets a few days away from harvesting souls he spends it with his family.

sources

As it is the tango, Death couldn't resist the rose between the teeth, and because he couldn't carry his scythe, he had an image of it embroidered in sequins on the front of his robe.
Sources

In a dark place, where he feels very comfortable, he plays online computergames, and nobody will know that it's death they are playing with or against.

Death loves to observe nature. But maybe it is best if he does it from a far.

It was supposed to be a relaxing trip but it went all wrong from the beginning. The hike in was longer than expected and he twisted his ankle bone on the way in. He left his can opener at home so dinner was sparse. He had pitched his tent on the rockiest patch of ground imaginable. At night he couldn't sleep. Between the whining of that one mosquito you can never find, the incessant chorus of crickets and the boisterous lovemaking of the drunken rednecks at the next camp site, he had had enough. He put his hands to his ears and screamed "SHUT-UUUUUP" at the top of his lungs. Of course, having no lungs no sound came out but a dry rattling. He had no ears either for that matter but old habits die hard. He could kill them but he was on vacation after all. He buried his head in his sleeping bag and counted the hours til morning ignoring the rustling sounds outside his tent. Bleary eye-socketed the next morning, he discovered that raccoons had eaten all his granola bars and peed on his cloak. He disgustedly broke camp and went home vowing "Never again." This entry is dedicated to anyone who "loves" camping. Here are my image sources . The story is from experience.