Warming Up

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Sunday 6th July 2003

We can maybe hope to live for around 25,000 days (maybe more, maybe less), but let's face we're not up to much for the first couple of thousand and there's a good chance that the last thousand or so are equally unproductive.
And for five sevenths of the remaining 20,000 we're working, so accounting for holidays we've got about 7000 days in our lives to have fun. I'm nearly 36 so I've had around about half of those already (and let's face it, it's the more fun half that's gone) so I've got possibly three thousand more days left to enjoy myself.
That's OK, (if my maths is correct and it may not be, you know already how much maths I have forgotten), it's ten more years to have as much fun as my decaying body will allow me.
Even so it's not that many days when you think about it, so days like today where I achieve nothing and do nothing are extraordinarily wasteful and annoying.
I think I might just take the next ten years off and have all my fun days before I get too old and then just work for the remaining thirty years, though I fear if I do that and die before my time I may be put into some kind of celestial prison for stealing time that didn't belong to me.
And I think if I had all my fun days in a row for ten years I might well drop dead at the end of it. The hangover from one night of fun was bad enough.
Now if I could also find some way to postpone the hangovers til I'm in my mid forties too (and then get them all at once in a super-hangover) the whole scheme might be worth considering.

I'm waffling again. My point is. I did nothing today. I am wasting my young life.
I must try not to.