636 to go...

Well, I'm still not feeling better and the weather is not helping. But I don't want to dwell. My hair is getting somewhat shaggy again, and as usual, I have to have that debate with myself about how much I should let it go before getting it cut.

I thought about this once, and you could measure your life in haircuts. Like, if I live to be eighty, and I have a about one haircut a month, then I have 636 haircuts to go, give-or-take. I don't know why, but it's fascinating to measure out things like this. I don't know why. I don't think it's morbid though, I mean it's just a realisation of something that's inevitable.

Whatever you believe about your soul, your earthly life is finite, it will end. The Stars have a song about one day being "sand on a beach by the sea." What's the appropriate response to that thought? I'm not sure.