The Immortal

I’ve decided I’m going to live to be 103.  Why 103, you ask?  Because a fortune teller told me that’s when I’d die and I’m going with it.  If you do the math and you know I’m almost 50, I have 53 years left.  I have more time left than I’ve been alive.  This is very comforting. Here’s some of the stuff I’m going to do/continue to do now that I’m not worried about who is going to pick out my nursing home anytime soon since I’ll be around for a while yet:

This is Rudy Bright. That will be his name when he lives with me and Amy.

I’m going to continue to drive Amy crazy with my OCD issues.  Can you just imagine how bad that’s going to be with old people ailments thrown into the mix? Just wait until I need a new white purse!  Or a nice shoe I made up entirely in my head? Sorry Amy.

I’m going to continue to do things that require the girl that lives at my house to say “Can you NOT be you?”  I have no idea what’s she talking about but she says it a lot so I’ll just keep being me so she can keep being a teenager with “mom embarrassment feelings”. I feel certain I can still get her to say it when she’s 30.  I’m certainly going to try.

I’m going to “liberate” a red panda from a zoo.  I’m really going to do it.  And I won’t botch the job like I did when I was 17 and thrown out of the Bronx Zoo and told to never return.  Ever.

I’m going to be the person who finally cracks the code of why Americans have gotten so fat over the past 20 years or so. It absolutely will be me because I’m not giving up until I have the puzzle solved.  This diet odyssey won’t kill Amy and she should stop complaining to anyone who will listen about it.  Jeeez, Amy.  You’re a hardy little thing.  Hang in there since you have to make it to at least 99 so you can out live me.