It's the little things that sneak up on you. I know the hard medical facts about my case. I know what's likely to happen. I have thought a lot about my own death. Those are all the big Cancer with a capital "C" things that we think about. And then there's the rest of my life. Cancer and mortality sort of hover in the background, of course, but I do get on with the things I have to do, that I want to do.
And then one of those little things jumps out and yells, "Gotcha!"
I love magazines. I know that you can get most of it online. But I love going out to the mailbox and finding a couple of new magazines. I know that I have an hour or two of entertainment coming up. So I was renewing my subscription to one the other day, and I came the point where I had to decide how long to renew for.
Did I want two years? The renewal card assured me that was a great deal. But three years? That was an even better deal. So which little box to check? And I stopped cold. Not because I couldn't decide which was the better deal. That was obvious. No, I had to wonder if I'll be here in two years. That would be a good deal. Or three years, that would be an even better deal.
None of us know when we're going to die. I think that if you spend a lot of time worrying about it, you're wasting some of that life that is so precious. So I checked the box for three years. I mean, what the heck, right? And besides, the card assured me that was the best deal ever. Who am I to argue?