So far Mad Men‘s sixth season has been my least favorite. Though I’ve read articulate complaints elsewhere online, I’m still having trouble nailing down the exact reasons for my diminished excitement. I even procrastinated the last few episodes for days after their respective airdates instead of rushing to catch them immediately for the sake of spoilers. I trust that Matthew Weiner and his team have surprises and shocks in store for us in the future, but I’d rather have them five episodes ago than idle impatiently till next year’s final season.

(Least favorite parts this year, for what it’s worth: another round of Don Draper adultery; Pete’s wacky mom and her fantasy life with her nurse, Manolo; and suddenly sideburns! Favorite parts: the ambiguously chipper Bob Benson; the mismatched buddy-art comedy team of Rizzo and Ginsberg; and returning special guest Danny Strong, living large in Hollywood.)

As I said last year the first time I attempted this: I’m terrible at guessing what happens next in any given show. Like the rest of the internet, that never stops me from trying. Most fans have their own ideas about what will or should happen next. My ideas are simply way more off-base than most other fans’.

Courtesy spoiler alert begins here; if you follow the show but haven’t caught up through last Sunday’s episode, “The Quality of Mercy” (not to be confused with the Twilight Zone episode “A Quality of Mercy”), you’re missing quite a few developments that you’ll need to check out before setting a viewing appointment for this Sunday’s finale, “In Care Of”.

What I’d be interested in seeing happen, even though none of it will, would include:

* Peggy and Ted Chaough share another illicit kiss. Don walks in on them and plays hypocritical morality police again, shaming Ted but ignoring Peggy. While Ted has a tearful breakdown, an incensed Peggy screams, “YOU NEVER LET ME HAVE NICE THINGS!” then runs into her office, creates the greatest Ocean Spray campaign of all time just to spite Don, and practices signing “Mrs. Peggy Chaough” over and over again in a notebook using a tube of Belle Jolie lipstick.

* Don’s secretary Dawn pops in to ask if she can have closure on the whole “racial tension” subplot that permeated the season’s early episodes but vanished when no one gave the nonwhite characters anything else to do.

* Li’l Sally finally breaks down and confesses to Betty about catching her dad and Sylvia in a compromising position. Since the last vestiges of her constant indignation drained away last week, Betty merely rolls her eyes and decides to spill the beans about Don. All the beans. Much more than Sally could possibly need to hear. After the end of the third hour of gossiping, Betty realizes she’s treating Sally as a friend instead of a daughter and grounds her for a week to put her in her place.

* Megan’s soap-opera characters — the original and her twin — are unexpectedly written off the show to boost lagging ratings. In an attempt at pushing the limits of the young TV medium, both characters meet their ends in a twin-vs-twin knife fight staged with a combination of primitive split-screen and a laughably wigged stunt double. It looks so terrible, and her firing by her open-marriage bosses is so acrimonious, that she’s a lot less shattered than Don had secretly hoped.

* Henry Francis shows up and demands more than two lines. He’s briskly escorted into the nearest limbo alongside Peggy’s ex Abe, Trudy Campbell, and Mrs. Ken Cosgrove.

* The real death that some pundits think has been foreshadowed all season long finally happens. The victim: Sylvia Rosen, murdered in her apartment. And Don is a suspect! Dun dun DUUUUUUN. Such an intensive inquiry will begin opening cracks in Don’s long-standing facade, humbling him before his peers and rendering him more helpless than ever. We’ll know the real culprit is Arthur, painfully aware all this time of their shenanigans, but his years in the medical practice taught him a few tricks about skewing evidence just so.

* With Don incarcerated, Bert Cooper deciding to retire, Roger preoccupied with pestering Joan for visitation rights to their love child (not to mention appearing at local bazaars and garden parties in desperate hopes of selling off his last three thousand copies of Sterling’s Gold), Pete uses some heretofore completely hidden leverage to stage a coup, take over the agency, and rename it Campbell Holloway Cosgrove Crane. Jim Cutler is on board with this for no apparent reason.

* To celebrate Pete’s takeover, his new indentured henchman Bob Benson insists on throwing the greatest office party of all time. While the finest drinks, the most ornate decorations, and world-famous musicians are brought in by the carload, Bob merely stands back, smiles widely, surveys all that this season has wrought, laughs maniacally on the inside, and assures himself that everything is going according to plan.

* In the final shot, Don stands alone in his prison cell, staring at his reflection in a mirror, and his cell door is visible behind him in the mirror, because symbolism or whatever.

* Not merely content to fire Megan from his soap, Ted McGinley also vows to return next season and help pound the nails into Mad Men‘s coffin. It’s just this little thing he likes to do.