is entropy finite?

Why should I be forced to sit around waiting for protons to decay? For entropy to destroy my living room? For my hair to get messed up again? For the great caterpillars of the earth to come out from their secret mines, devouring every thing in sight and leaving in their wake a silky web of entropy? Tell me this, space tyrant, demon consort, "thing" that sits at the end of time waiting for reality to munch itself into a vortex of black holes and subatomic particles: if times arrow is clinically reversed, does that mean order increases with every possible transaction, or at least, Gibbs free energy is reduced every time I refuse a stick of gum or throw a meter in the backwards parking meter. This is happening right now, I can tell. Another copy of me is rushing backward in time to that parking meter I leaned against, high on LSD, in the wake of a rainstorm, as a nice lady needed to use it. She was actually disgusted with the hippies on the street. There was a newspaper vendor playing Indian music and this happens just before, or just after, that parking meter, depending upon the entropy thing. Is there a finite amount of disorder? Is entropy finite? Does that mean that the universe will "finish" itself some day?