I read somewhere that there is a practice amongst some monks to turn their water glasses upside down at night, to acknowledge they may not wake up in the morning. 

I thought about that last night. I think the thought of possibly dying in my sleep would freak me out so badly I wouldn't sleep at all. Yet it's a legitimate possibility.

I wrote, long ago, that if I knew I only had a few hours left, I'd call a few people, say a few words. Food wouldn't matter. So in this way, I learned what has meaning to me.

But I was watching The Big Bang Theory and Sheldon asked Penny to imagine the best day of her life. I imagined mine: waking up naturally around 9, feeling refreshed. Having a fried egg and avocado and bacon burger for breakfast. Doing yoga for a while. Having a hot shower with my favourite soap (smells like happiness). Going to do something for 1-3 hours that involves me contributing in something I do well. Having something nice for lunch, maybe soba. Reading a book. Getting a massage. Going for a walk in nature. Something nice for dinner, maybe pesto pasta. And cuddling at night. 

There's a difference between the urgency of living life with a few hours left (one narrows down to the core important things in life) and the security and joy of living as though, well, we have forever. 

I learned that some things which aren't the most important to me still bring joy day-to-day, and that is a significant source of happiness. I can tell you I love you, every day, and still have space to be happy about an egg and bacon burger.

Cheers.