On the first day, I'd quit my job and curse out my bosses, one at a time. Then I'd call every member of my family and friends, and tell them the things I always meant to say but never got around to it. I'd split my belongs between those I cared for. I'd find a good home for my beloved cat, who's kept me company all these years. Then, I'd spend every waking moment of my next six days attempting to line up my outline properly for my novel. I'm sure you're wondering why I hadn't done that already, since it means so much to me that I'd put it on my wrap up list. I have, just not very coherently. If I had all the time in the world, I probably would have already. 

Life, however, has a tendency to postpone things. So I'd write it out so that someone who barely knows about it would be able to see the big picture. I'd beg my family to try and find someone to carry the story out, telling them every detail of my blood, sweat, and tears that I've wasted on it. I'd drive them crazy enough to say yes. Then, I'd make sure to spend the rest of my time with my dearest people. After all, no matter how many regrets I might have at my untimely death, I'd rather they not be among them. Time is fleeting, and family are the most important thing in my life. As long as I spent time with them, I am confident that I would be at peace, even without regrets.