Being a host is infused with problems. Everybody has food allergies these days. You might as well make dinner buffet-style and let ’em at it.

There are many ways to ensure that you are a good guest, be that at a dinner party or as a stayover:

1. No matter what your host says, do not make yourself at home; it’s not your house.

2. Brush up on your manners before you arrive, especially your table manners.

3. The dog and cat live there; it’s their house, not yours, so treat them as well (or better, if you happen to be my guest) than your hosts. If you don’t like hair, don’t visit.

4. No politics or religion, which means no indigestion afterwards.

5. Never outstay your welcome.

Ahem, this includes life. Yes, you read that right: kindly take your leave when it’s over.

I can hear the screams of indignance shooting around the internet right now.

In his landmark book, “Death Interrupted. How Modern Medicine is Complicating the Way We Die”, author Blair Bigham, MD, deftly examines the fine line between medical intervention and natural death, injecting both humour and sense into the equation. Here’s the jacket copy, verbatim, to give you an idea of what comprises this book:

“Doctors today call on previously unimaginable technologies to help keep our bodies alive almost indefinitely. But this unprecedented shift in intensive care has created a major crisis. In widening the grey zone between life and death, doctors fight with doctors, families feel pressure to make tough decisions about their loved ones, and lawyers are left to argue life-and-death cases in the courts. Meanwhile, intensive care patients are caught in purgatory, attached to machines and unable to speak for themselves.”

Newsflash: you are going to die. Moi aussi. Is this pig slop what you want? To be your legacy? To divide your family? To line the pockets of attorneys? To waste valuable doctors’ time that could be devoted to someone half your age with a real chance of living another maybe 30 years? Didn’t think so.

The average life expectancy (different from lifespan; look it up!) of humans 100 years ago, in 1920, was 53.6 years for men and 54.6 years for women. It’s way up from that now — 81.75 in Canada and 77.28 for the USA — thanks in part to the advent of antibiotics, but it doesn’t necessarily mean life is better during that extension. It just means longer.

Am I suggesting you toss yourself into a vat of stew and drown? No, no, no. Why ruin a perfectly good meal!

My father truly believed that he was going to be the first person in the world to live forever. He was super-motivated because he so enjoyed making my life miserable. Yup, you’re correct; he’s dead. December 8, 2007, 83 years old.

The point is, why do we so crave numbers as they relate to age, prolonging the inevitable at the expense of really living a good (read: healthy and productive) life? If we did not so deeply fear death, would that help? As noted in my “The Book section of this website, accept death, and inspire and infuse your life with, well, life, by spending time in cemeteries. Historical ones are fascinating, more recent ones, say, less than 200 years old, are a source of motivation; there will be a bunch of folks in those that were born the same year you were.

Live like you mean it, and when you don’t men it anymore, have the good grace to let go. In the meantime, read Dr. Bigham’s book (published by House of Aanasi Press).

When you’re done that, answer one crucial question for me: how many weeks are there in an average life? Put that calculator down now! The answer, according to the brilliantly written book by Oliver Burkeman is: “Four Thousand Weeks”. Yes, that’s all. My guess would have been five or ten thousand. Nope. Four. Burkeman’s subtitle is “Time Management for Mortals”. It doesn’t get better than this. Now, grab that spatula and get cooking!