Well, then. That’s the day I’m calculated to die according to Death Clock. See here …
And I’m not buying it. Call it denial. I can live with denial. For a damn long time. See, it’s always the ornery ones who last the longest and I’ve decided I’m going to live to be in my 90s. Not my 80s. I had two grandparents, one on my mother’s side of the family – Grandma Florence – and one on my father’s side of the family – Grandpa Jens – who both lived into their 90s. I’ve got a pretty good chance of making it to my 90s with those genetics bombarding me.
Plus, I refuse to die on a Monday. It’s just so darned cliché.
Shall we place bets?