She set out to enjoy herself to death.

Why not? The doctors gave her six months at best. So she vowed to use those 181 days, to death.

Day one – she slept in, total sloth, she even left the electric blanket on

Day four – decided to never clean again and just buy new socks and cereal bowls every few days

Days five and six – were dancing, super spicy laksa and dark alley graffiti at 3am

Day twelve – she put on her wellies (without checking for spiders) and stomped in puddles, in the drizzle, ‘til she was sure to catch cold

Days sixteen through twenty are a bit of a haze but now she knows first hand how every spirit in her liquor stash goes (or doesn’t) with each of the others

Day twenty five she woke up to sunrise over the lake

Day thirty – she told old man Hammond just how mean he was (it felt great)

Day thirty eight – she stopped taking her meds

Day forty two – handmade cards containing her real thoughts were sent to her whole contact list

Day forty three – she blew bubbles in front of the train station to make all the commuters smile

Day fifty one – she bought a motorbike and started riding it with no lessons or Kevlar

Day fifty six marked the start of her dark chocolate, blue cheese and iced coffee diet

Day sixty nine – commenced salsa classes (and sometimes she went home with the single instructor for private tuition afterwards)

Day seventy/seventy one – a tiring 24 hour Pictionary and Cards Against Humanity marathon (she won)

Day seventy seven – she tried her first ever spiked brownie

Day eighty three she painted her kitchen bright yellow

Day ninety two – she was over half way (just) so did a hilarious stand up set about dying that completely bombed

Day ninety eight – she called all her special people together and gave away her money, her possessions and her pets (this was the best day so far)

Day one hundred she didn’t wake up.

Was she short changed by eighty one days or did she have ninety nine unlike anything she’d dared imagine?