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.