You know, I really don't think I would want to live forever.
It's tempting to have -- literally -- all the time in the world. No deadlines because what the hell? It's not like I'd be getting any older -- because I'd have to make sure 'always looking like a hot 27 year old' was part of the bargain, and then I'd have to extend that bargain to Mr MM. And my kids (once they reached that age, not before! LOL), because no parent should have to bury a child, and otherwise I would be this incredibly creepy mom to an octogenarian, who probably had grankids of her own who would be really scared of me, and--
No. Better not go there.
I have this one life in this one body on this one planet, to do everything I can according to any plan I can muster. That's a lot of room for joy right there. And screw ups. But mostly joy.
A deadline can be a tremendous catalyst for good, I think. I think...
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