Who Would Know and Who Would Care?

If I were to fall face first flat into my keyboard just after pushing the 'publish" key, how long would it take for somebody to wonder or care enough to come out here to the farm to find me dead?  My best bet is that it would be long after the three house cats had picked my bones clean for their survival.  A few people might call but wouldn't think anything of not getting an answer, though I am one of those rare Americans who almost always answers the phone when it's ringing, unless caller ID shows it to be a telemarketer or bill collector. 
My regular weekly golf partner might think it odd that I didn't call or answer his call to finalize the regular, weekly details of our weekly 'grudge match'.   My live-in lady love, who is away looking after her sick mom, wouldn't care to come to check on the reasons for lack of contact.  She would, most likely jump to conclusions that I was alive and well and ignoring her to pursue other pursuits.  She will probably never know the depth and breadth of my love for her, despite the many reasons she's given a man not to do so.  My 'friends', like Michael and Sam, who never call and seldom answer when I call wouldn't give a rat's ass. Todd would call, if not having heard from me in a while, but wouldn't think to actually come all the way out here to check on me.   My sister and her brood, from whom I've not heard a word since she ripped me off on our father's meager estate five years ago would never know, or care to know, except maybe to get their grubby, greedy fingers on what little I have left behind.  My neighbors wouldn't miss me and even my sweet hearted, salt of the earth landlady would be more glad than sad, so that she could finally charge a higher rent to someone new, as I'm still locked into the monthly rate established twenty plus years ago.
I don't blame these people, or any others, as my life is what I have made it.  I have no family of my own.  I have no career colleagues, as I've only held a string of itinerant jobs over the decades, thus establishing no real professionally based relationships.  I've done nothing great or memorable.  As Ben Franklin admonished, I have not spoken anything worth writing or written anything worth reading.  The best thing I've ever done was helping to design and build a couple of disc golf courses, but as there are not any posted plaques attesting to that, I won't even be remembered for that slight accomplishment.