You are told by God, a noted and reliable source, that in 100 days it all ends for you. Your mortal coil will burn out. You become the rarest of individuals who knows exactly when it will all be over.
What would you do with 100 days if they were all you had left?
Perhaps sell the house and tick off as many bucket list items as you can in the time, spiced up with liberal quantities of gay abandon.
You might reconnect with family and friends splurging out on dinner parties twice a week being sure to get the caterers in.
The grudges and prejudices that have dogged you for decades might be melted away as you spend your last 100 days on a mountaintop sweeping up leaves.
You might choose to ignore God’s 100-day deadline claiming a ruse and believe that you actually had a lot more time.
Clearly there will be as many ways to fill the last 100 days as there are people to fill them.
The most common theme among the disparate choices will be to do more or less the same as you always do. You will text, tweet, post and play Candy Crush. You will watch hours of crime dramas and cooking shows on TV. You will complain and argue, laugh and sing. Because these are the things that you do now when you have an unknown amount of time left. They are warm and familiar things that we all choose to do everyday.
And the thing is that you choose to do them. On the train to work, in the evening after dinner, at the weekends, in the 72 hours of the week you are not sleeping or working.
Yes, you choose to do them.
Think about it.