Live Each Day Like It’s Your Last And Other Bullshit

I saw something on Facebook about living each day like it’s your last would result in telling your boss to fuck off, buying shoes and punching strangers.

I can relate to that. I really shouldn’t live each day like it’s my last or my last day might come much sooner than it should. However, if I knew for absolute sure it was my last day…well then…

What I should do is spend the day making touching videos for my husband and my kids and my grand kids, telling them to remember me well and live lives that make them happy and spread sunshine and unicorn juice all over humanity.

I could recreate childhood photos with my sisters to give to my mother so they could sit and laugh and cry and remember me fondly. They could post them on Facebook and people would look at them and cry, because fucking hell, Facebook people do some touching shit, right? I am constantly reading articles or watching videos that make me cry like I just dropped a hammer on my foot. Okay, not exactly like that. There would be more cursing involved in the hammer scenario.

I could use my last day to raise awareness for something..I don’t know..hunger? homelessness? Something worthwhile. My efforts would go viral and it might be the beginning to all humanity reaching an understanding that we all share this rock and making boundaries and fighting over resources and religion is just fucking ridiculous. My face would become the face of peace. And maybe be featured in future adult acne commercials.

In reality, what I would probably do is go to work. Only for a few minutes. Long enough to cackle wildly over never ever coming in again and I’d probably (absolutely) flip off a few people. I would leave without hugging anyone because work hugs make me so goddamn uncomfortable.

I’d have sex with my husband and mock him if he got all maudlin.

I’d cook for my kids. Cooking for my kids is something that has always brought me absolute satisfaction.

I’d eat what I wanted and I’d drink top shelf booze…I would not exit my existence sober. Fuck that.

I would find a quiet stretch of road and drive my car as fast as it would go.

I would eat every kind of pie known to man. Except pumpkin and rhubarb. Fucking rhubarb pie? Who thinks of this shit?

I would say exactly what I was thinking for the entire 24 hours. Unless it was cruel. I would keep those thoughts and take them with me when I left.

I would go to the tallest building I could find and in the final moments of my last day, I would know what it feels like to fly.

Probably none of those things are true. Other than the not being sober part. I definitely wouldn’t be sober.

I meant this to be funny, but I don’t feel funny at all right now. What I feel is a desire to continue existing. I feel like not wasting anymore time. I feel like being grateful for what is good in my life and an extreme desire to snap out of the lethargy I’ve been swimming through for months.  I feel like smiling more often than I don’t.

On the other hand, I’m about to go out and shop and it’s a mere 3 days before Christmas. My lack of goodwill and crabbiness will be intact in no time.

Tell me just one thing you’d do if it was your last day.

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  • I’d punch the son of a bitch that told me. I mean, if it were really my last day I’d be a fucking mess of uncontrolled tears. Simply by knowing it would ruin the day. I do like the idea of writing letters to my sons though.

  • I think you and I would spend our last days in much the same way (except the pie, because I love pumpkin AND rhubarb, although I’m off sweets, but fuck it, it’s my last day, right?). I mean, I wouldn’t have sex with your husband. Unless you’d be cool with that. I would add that I would watch movies that make me laugh…or better yet, that make Precocious Daughter laugh, because her laugh makes me happy.

  • I bet it comes as a huge shock that I certainly wouldn’t be sober either.
    I’d like to be in Mauritius on my last day. After I’d spent the entire afternoon floating in the gorgeous Indian Ocean, eating fabulous food and getting totally pampered in one of those incredible spas they have over there, I’d like to play one last gig, preferably with my best friend and partner in musical crime.
    If I had a significant other, children or close family and friends, then maybe I’d wish something different.
    Reality is probably going to be more Eleanor Rigby than glamour.

  • Ah yes, the “Live Like It’s Your Last Day” FB posts… It’s a great idea, but I would spend too much money and probably not provide for my future if I did this every day. Sorry if that makes me the grinch who stole last days.

    If today was my last day: I would have sex with my fiance, spend time with the cats, talk to worthwhile friends, get a massage.. and then get on an international flight and just go somewhere. Without pre-planning or hesitation, because I talk myself out of everything, hate to fly… but god do I miss travelling. Just the thrill of it would make me smile, even if I only lived for a short while, while stepping off the plane.

    • nice! Yes, I would think going someplace beautiful would be a nice last day..I mean, other than it would be overshadowed by the fact that it’s your last day..

  • There’s all sorts of cool shit I’d want to do but nothing I’d want my family to be in debt for. So, trip to the park with my kid, little time with my wife, maybe dinner I don’t have to cook myself & a movie. I’m boring and easily amused.

    • I think being easily amused is a good thing…it means that you’re mostly amused and that is WAAAAY better than not being amused.

  • That’s such a hard question. A part of me would want to just pretend it was just any other day. In reality, I’d want to spend quality time with the people closest to me. I may even go so far as to tell those select people this was my last day. We’d all skip work and have blast.

    I feel like, to be responsible, I’d get my will fleshed out…

  • i thought this was my last day for awhile. i went grocery shopping two days before christmas. An old retiree doesn’t stand a chance with all those busy people pushing heavy metal shopping carts around. those things are deadly weapons, especially if there’s a big sale on sliced ham or something. look out for grandma, or she’ll run over your reindeer.

    oh, and don’t take those little shopping carts for granted…they’re quick. you gotta be light on your feet….yea, that’s me all right.

    anyway, to make a short story long, a day like today would not have been the way i chose to live my last day. maybe i’m avoiding the topic because i’m getting older and my last day is closer and more real to me now …….naw, that can’t be it, cause i’m not getting older. besides, looking back at my misspent youth, its a wonder i’ve made it this long.

    what i want most of all, for my last day on this beautiful blue and green pearl that we live upon, is to be home; in the bosom of family; no more, no less. Amen, so be it truly.

  • In all of my last day on earth day dream scenarios it’s usual the end of the world for everyone as in Nevil Shutes book “On the Beach” so I haven’t considered what to do if it was just me leaving. I suppose the weather would figure in. If it wasn’t too cold, a walk on the beach and the nearby woods. Eating at the local diner so I wouldn’t have to do any housework on my last day… the pie there is fantastic . I’m with you about the rhubarb and pumpkin-yuck. Do some painting and drawing which I pretty much do everyday so why change that. And I would definitely spend the day with my son who is the very heart of me and the embodiment of all my love. Though I would not want him to see me die…not for my sake but his.
    I live in a place with woodlots, gently rolling farm fields and stretches of wild lake shore. I sometimes imagine that when I die my being will rise up into the wind that blows off the lake and dissipate into the air like the little mermaid in the original fairy tale or that my being will sink deep into the land and spread out warm under layers of fallen autumn leaves.

  • I would find a way to get out and get some really good Barbeque (this is Oakland, after all) and some Lindt raspberry truffles. Thus fortified, I would then put my amp back together and plug in some electric guitars and play for the two hours I would get before my fingers hurt too much to continue. I would do some writing aimed at posterity, then spend my remaining time listening to music and visiting with the people I love.
    Damn, have I gotten boring in my old age?

  • Wow, this post generated lots of thought, and a long list of shoulds, but the one thing I would have to do would be to take a long motorcycle ride into the mountains with my hub.

    Oh and afterward, lots of good booze. Don’t want to make my last day even shorter by doing the booze first! 🙂

  • Really, I spend time avoiding thinking about my last day. I really like the “In the world of tomorrow, they can put your brain in a robot body!” scenario. Or clones. See Richard K. Morgan’s book Altered Carbon.

    I think the sentiment (live like it’s your last day, not becoming a robot overlord) is to encourage people to live without regrets or something, but if it was my last day, my responsibilities could kiss my attention to them goodbye. My mortgage would go unpaid. I wouldn’t go to work. I’d take the dog and go…somewhere. And just spend the day doing rad things. I’d have like, a Ferris Bueller’s Day Off day, wherein I would do things for which I would never face the consequences.

  • I can’t believe your post has inspired me to be mushy (I also weep over sad facebook posts and videos) but honestly… one last day? I’d probably just want to naked cuddle in bed with my boyfriend. Those are some of the most purely happy moments.

    • oooohhhh…sorry about the mushy. 🙂

      I really did intend for it to be funny…but the more I thought about it…damn…not so much.

  • I’d call everyone I love and tell them. Then I’d cuddle with my cats and husband. I might also get the cats stoned on catnip because they don’t need to be sober on my last day.
    I also like your pie idea. But I would skip blueberry, because I prefer blueberries in cake-like vessels like muffins.

By Michelle


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