Somebody sent me a link to the Death Clock and I learned that I'm likely to die on May 11, 2018. I guess I'm in my golden years. Unfortunately I'm not set to retire until August 1, 2033.
I suppose I saw this coming. I was trying to defrost a fridge recently with hammer and screwdriver and got a nice healthy cloud of refrigerant in the face. That was a year or two off my life right there. Then there was the day I spent shooting an industrial video in a fiberglass-blowing plant, with little pink threads sticking to everything, which probably shaved five more years off. Not to mention all of the head injuries I've sustained; I have been knocked unconscious at every job I have ever had except for this one, where I just passed out once.
I'll just try to make the most of what time I have left.
I don't entirely agree with this list of Time Magazine's 100 Greatest Books, but I've read 28 of them.
But I've seen 59 of their 100 Greatest Movies.
Give me a shout at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.
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