When I was in college, I worked out what day I was going to die.
More correctly, I figured out a day that would be freaky for me to die on. Especially if I end up having a 19-year-old son on that day.
See, Grandpa Riggs passed away, it was Valentine's Day. He was 65. He had a son who was 17. The son was Dad.
When Dad died, it was two days after Valentine's Day. He was 66. He had a son who was 18. That was me.
So if I die on February 18, 2034, and if I have a son who is 19... well, first of all: how freaky would it be for me to have a kid, right? But that poor kid only has 49 years left to live and is for sure going to kick the bucket on February 20--and have a kid who is 20.
I may have some of those numbers wrong, by the way. I was home at some point during my college years and found an obituary for Grandpa Riggs. I got that info from there, and I used it to figure out my "wouldn't it be cool if..." death date. It's been twenty-some-odd years, and I have no idea where that obituary is now. So maybe my kid will be 17, because maybe Dad was 19...
The only thing I remember clearly is the date. I hope I make it. I would love to be breathing a sigh of relief just after midnight on February 19, 2034.
But, you know, whatever. Just wanted to make an official note of it, just in case.