No Time Left.

I have a bucket list. It's a great invention. Everyone should have some things that they want to do before they kick the bucket. I'm not sure if this list is the sort of thing that should consume all of one's thoughts, time and resources, but that it should be approached more with the attitude, "If it comes my way I will try it." I have done some things that could be considered bucketlist-ish. Skydiving--check. Visit another country--check. (Actually...does Canada even count?) Road Trip to the East Coast from the West Coast--check. There are some things in life that just have to be experienced.

But what if you only had Forty Eight hours to live? No particular reason. No bed-ridden sickness, no gunshot wound to the side, no alien parasite controlling your every move and making you chase other people down to eat them--no inability to do whatever you wanted. You just knew that you were going to die, and there was nothing you could do about it. What would you do?

Now I can only imagine the sorts of things that would appear on other people's bucket lists. Get Drunk. Get high. Punch a total stranger. Have sex with a celebrity. Base jump off the Empire State Building. Rob a bank. Tell someone you love them. Punch a police officer. Fly a plane at Mach 1. Have sex with another celebrity. Finally get 1,000 friends on Facebook. Pie someone in the face. Take a bath in noodles. Throw hundred dollar bills in the air. I have no idea really--I don't particularly care for most of those.

Me? I'm simple. Now to be completely honest, I haven't lived the most exciting life. It hasn't been horribly boring, but exciting doesn't quite describe my daily activities. If I found out that I had 48 hours to live, I probably wouldn't go spend all my money. I wouldn't throw a big party, or do things that I would have regretted if I found out I wasn't going to die afterall. I wouldn't cuss someone out that I had hated for a long time, or go vandalize someone's house that I felt I needed vengeance on. Aside from taking the day off work and refusing to do my laundry, I probably would continue my life exactly as it would have gone. A basketball game. A movie. A nap. What's the point in trying to cram your last few hours so full that you will be so tired by the end of them that they will have become a drudgery? No, I just would want to be comfortable. Eat a big meal and take a nap, hang out with some friends. That's the life.