Bucket List : Not Quite Clear on the Concept

I would start a bucket list if I didn't have a fundamental problem with the concept, which is, essentially, why?

If you believe this life is all we get and nothing lies beyond, then the moment you kick said bucket it will no longer matter to your pile of bones left behind what they spent their time doing whilst animated.

If you believe God has a lovely room prepared for you in heaven with a bed made of kitten angels and fluffy cloud pillows weighed down by nightly piles of pillow chocolates, why would you then care, while you chat with Lincoln and Shakespeare, whether you managed to squeeze in that trip to the Smithsonian?

That said, it's still fun to make lists of things, especially lists of things that would be fun. Here's a start. A small start because as long as I have the Captain, wine and chocolate, every thing else is gravy.

• More dogs. Smaller, cuter ones.
• More trampolining.
• Karaoke. Once, while drunk, and never again.
• Scotland.
• New Zealand.
• James Joyce.
  
• One of those wicked spendy spa vacations with tiny, exquisite meals, yoga or something cutting-edge and trendy called like Ting-Bao or something, sea salt scrubs or mud baths, and massages.
• More hot tubbing.