Few people know it, but I have a habit of keeping a running count of how many days I’ve been alive. In the same way we celebrate birthdays, I wake up and say, “Happy 12,139, Bo” and then I try to live in a manner that would make that day special. Some people have called me “impulsive” or “unpredictable” or let’s be honest, “crazy.” The one thing I’ve never been called is “boring.” I will not miss a moment, or an opportunity for a great memory or story. There is something finite about acknowledging that this day will a never come again. It instills a sense of responsibility to make it count. It instills a sense of guilt for a day wasted.
So today is 12,147 for me. What is it for you? Make some memories, friends!