Day 9,355

I have been alive for 9,355 days. When I was first processing that information earlier this morning, I thought to myself, "Too bad that's not years. I kind of want to be a Time Lord." Then I thought, "Ugh, what have I been doing with myself? I don't read as much as I'd like to, and yet I'm watching shows on Netflix that don't even really appeal to me* just because they're nice distractions from reality. Pathetic. I should tweet this."

So I did. I posted it to my private Twitter account, where I've been stashing most of my updates lately. (More on that next time.) Chris wrote back with a Time Lord reference, and gRegor made a terrible-ish joke about lighting candles. And then I sneezed on my cat.

(Wanted: professional editor to force me to delete the embarrassing sentences I can't help but include in my blog entries.)

Thinking about my age in days helped put things in a new perspective, though, and I don't want to lose that. I'm going to try to get back in the habit of writing in a journal every day, and I'd like to number each entry accordingly.

Also, I'd like to do something fun for my 10,000 day, assuming I make it that long. (I had a small bump on the roof of my mouth the other day, and WebMD diagnosed me with mouth cancer. Not surprising, since their unofficial tagline is "The Answer Is Always Cancerâ„¢," but still disconcerting in the "Gah, I am mortal!" sort of way. The small bump is now gone, though, so DIE IN A FIRE, WebMD!) Obviously, Giordano's pizza will be involved, but that's as far as I've gotten in the planning process. Suggestions are most definitely welcome.

In the spirit of embracing my mortality and becoming more intentional in how I use my time, I'm also going to finish writing my bucket list and post it here. Y'all can help keep me accountable. I am also going to go ahead and purchase tickets for a few extra shows at Ravinia for this summer, since that is the kind of entertainment that is satisfying both in the moment and in beloved memories in the years to follow.

So if you catch me whining about a really boring show on Netflix, please yell at me to go find something better to do with my time. Or just throw a book at my 9,355-day-old head.

*To clarify, I am definitely not talking about Doctor Who when I say that, okay? Okay.