I’m guilty of having too few memorable days.

You know, those sort of “hey, remember that day I _____?” days that will resurface in my brain next month, next year, or during a round playing golf for life for free at The Villages, Florida’s friendliest hometown.

Tomorrow is a to-do list of things I didn’t have time for today.  That’s not memorable.  And I’m the only one who can fix it.  I have 24 hours.

And… go.

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