The electronic sign said, “Live like there is no tomorrow!”, and then it scrolled round to advertise cut price potatoes. Folks, if there’s no tomorrow then I’m not buying spuds today.
Pottering onwards, I pondered what it would be like if there actually was no tomorrow, and what would I do if I woke up one morning and was told, ‘You have twenty four hours left, use your time wisely’.
Well, I wouldn’t bother sleeping in for starters!
First, I’d make a coffee with seven, no, ten, spoonful’s of sugar before ordering a large pizza for breakfast. Next, I’d get a permanent marker and scrawl on the lounge-room wall a list of stuff I’d like to do with my remaining twenty three and something hours. Note: cleaning the lounge-room wall will not be on that list.
…if we all lived like there was no tomorrow, then there’s a good chance most of us wouldn’t live ‘til tomorrow.
But it will include the following: ride a motorcycle through a shopping centre (possibly naked, I’ll see how I feel on the day), free every caged bird I can find, then hit the beach with my family, watch the sunset and, in the evening, flick through our photo albums while sharing the booze I’d been saving for a special occasion.
There’s lot of other stuff, but this is a G-rated column so you’ll just have to use your imagination. But trust me, I’ll definitely be going out with a ‘Bang!’, or two.
I realise the signs’ sentiments actually meant to take stock of our lives and do the things that really make a difference to our short existence here on planet Earth, but if we all lived like there was no tomorrow, then there’s a good chance most of us wouldn’t live ‘til tomorrow.
Although, I’m banking on being around tomorrow, and I think I’ll go buy some spuds; they really were a bargain.