The usual answer returns when I ask the question. “Hell, no.”
The answer pulls me forward.
So I’m going to do today what I would want my last day alive to look like. It’s replicable.
The day starts. Coffee with my wife, with an inspiring discussion of an idea she found.
(From that conversation, a decision was made. Something we will do together less than a year from now.)
Then the rest of my day is determined, too. Vigorous exercise. Reason: feels good, man. Write. Reason: the result I want will come from what I publish. Everything above that is gravy.
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