One Hour to Live

What would you do if you found out you only had one hour to live?

Before I begin to describe my last hour on earth (in this life), let me preface this by giving you, Gentle Reader, a bit of background. There is a challenge going on for all WordPress bloggers to either post once a day or once a week, depending on how active you choose to be. Personally, I’m going for once a day, but I will settle for once a week.

As a bonus topic, WordPress Dude and All Around Good Guy Scott Berkun suggested a bonus topic today. That topic is the question you see at the beginning of this post.

(Aside: The suggested topics to this point haven’t really grabbed my attention, so I’ve written about other things. This one got me thinking, and that’s always a good thing, in my view. But enough of this aside, let’s get on with it, shall we?)

My final hour of life would consist of the following:

1.) I would spend the majority of the time cuddling with my wife, and, hopefully, granting her fondest wish, that of a child. It would fulfill both her wish and would allow some part of this incarnation of me to continue. Let’s say this activity takes 40 minutes.

2.) With my remaining 20 minutes, I’d quickly post a farewell note on my blog here (and in turn, this will post automatically to my facebook, so no worries about having to write it down twice). Let’s agree this would take 15 minutes.

3.) The last five minutes would be spent making myself comfortable. Fix up my pillows, put on something comfortable to lie in. (Nothing that would make me look fat or anything. Not that it matters a whit, I’m going to be dead soon anyway. Still, some fashion sense in death goes a long way towards making me comfortable. So, there.) The goal, of course, is to be comfortable and not fall down and embarrass myself after death.

If I’ve timed everything right, I should fall quietly asleep and pass on with a minimum of fuss.

So, that’s what I’d do with my remaining hour of life. No scathing letters to politicians for ruining the country. No diatribes of indignation for former friends who don’t understand basic English composition. No heartfelt last wishes for a better planet after I’m gone. No muss. No fuss. And easy clean up.

No, none of any of that. I’ll be coming back soon, anyway, so why mess up my karmic debt with a bunch of crap like that? Makes no sense.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this and, hey, hit the “like” button, if you did, would you please? Thanks, mate.