Read the last novel in the Hornblower series.
Also a lot of mundane stuff, like making sure my will is up to date, recording information my survivors might need, writing long, loving farewell letters to family members. But I have been saving Admiral Hornblower in the West Indies (the last complete Hornblower novel) for when I really need it. This would be the occasion.
In that case, I’m cashing out as much of my assets as possible, taking out as many credit cards or loans as I can get immediate access to, flying to Vegas, and partying it up until I kick the bucket.
I have no spouse, no heirs, no estate of any significant value, and nobody to saddle my debt with, so the only victims would be the giant corporations that were foolish enough to give me their money in the first place.
Burying a hatchet sounds like a good idea, now I would have to work out on who’s skull. Note to self: need more hatchets.
Prepare some donations for the survivors. Cancel my netflix subscription.
Good whisky, good food and marihuana seem like an excellent idea.
Re-read the beginnings of some books, see how long I still like them, then take the next one. 100 Years of Solitude, Hitchhicker’s Guide, something by Nietzsche, The Sandman comic series…
A bottle of fine wine, some legal weed (from the dispensary, of course), and a plate of stone-crab claws with a tangy lemon-mustard dip. I’ll watch the Wizard of Oz on TV and sync my final breath with Dorothy’s heel clicks. There’s no place like home, after all.
Try to get caught up on the honey-do list, because apparently I’m the only one who can do this stuff. 
Write down the list of personal effects I want to go to specific people – otherwise I’m all caught up with my will etc. Then go on doing what I’m doing now – ride my horse in the forest, go to church, tend my garden, milk my goat, make bread … Maybe I’ll finish that embroidery piece that’s sitting in the corner of my studio, because no one else is going to.
I’d want to know more about this end. As far as I’m concerned, the only way to go is to be converted into a fully-ionized plasma in less than a nanosecond. So your nervous system cannot possibly register it.
If it’s gonna be something nastier and more painful, I might want to pre-empt it.
No, but isn’t this applicable to anything she posts?
Oh… hang on a moment. You’re not planning suicide are you? I hadn’t thought of that aspect.
I remember some years ago when a good musician friend suddenly came over to pick up an album or two he had lent us. Didn’t think much of it at the time, but a week later we heard he had shot himself in a local motel. I think he had clinical depression.
In restrospect, he was saying goodbye. Wish we had picked up on the signs and been able to get him some help.
If you have problems, talk to your doctor. Please.
Plant seeds.
Hey, they could germinate in time.
Hookers and blow.
(But that’s my answer for everything!)
I’m thinking it’s supposed to be like the final scene of The Sopranos.
Moderating
Hey, that’s a little over the line, even if you mean it in a friendly way.
I’m sorry. I was posting while waiting for a train in town.
a) Running in place, screaming like a chicken.
b) see (a)
I very much doubt Beck is planning suicide. She’s been fighting to stay alive for quite awhile now and has beloved humans and critters who love and rely on her. She’s also a person who has lots of time to think, hence her interesting questions.
Beck, I have my will, living will, POA, and my funeral plans all set, and my kids know where to find them. I’d try to gather my kids and siblings together so they could help each other out. It’s the one thing that really upsets me when I consider my demise: how bereft my kids and siblings will be. It’s hard to think of my children grieving and my not being here to comfort them.
What a coincidence! That upsets me, too… except it’s the opposite scenario.
I can only imagine the Rejoicing! I won’t leave them a cent for the Celebration. They need to BYOB.
Well, I would bother to do my laundry.
Max out my credit cards.