I have been strangely reluctant to tackle this December post. Maybe I'm just getting a bit sick of the boot camp? Or maybe I just enjoy the exquisite torment of procrastination, which forces me to (eventually, at the very last minute) write fast without fuss. Yeah, that'll be it.
OK, I give in. It's late afternoon on the last day of 2015. Time to cast a cool eye over progress so far on my Boot Camp for the Bonus Years—a self-imposed programme to audit lifestyle habits, the goal being to improve my chances of a happy healthy brainy old age.
When does the boot camp finish?
The boot camp was designed to last 12 months: 12 tasks, you see. But when did it begin? That's a curly one.
At the start of 2015 I began to toy with the idea of examining my life in relation to aging, but this was casual, never serious. Then on my birthday, 24 February I decided to really do this audit and soon after, devised a boot camp to formalise the process. I was well into the boot camp by the time I finally began writing about it in June. Much of what I wrote was already retrospective by then.
So did the boot camp begin: 1st January, 24 February, or 28 June?
Sergeant Major: "It ends tomorrow. So chop chop, hurry up!"
Smugilla: "Darling, you can stop now. You have done more than enough, especially as you were already perfect. Lie down and bask in the glory of you. Champagne?"
Depressa: "You've barely started. You'll never get through this. Face it, this stupid boot camp was a self-important self-deluding self-indulging waste of time from the word Go. Not that you have any time to waste, and anyway what happens? You die, doh!"
Innocent Bystander: "What do I care? Party time!"
I'm settling for 24 February as the end date, giving me almost two more months to do more stuff and then finally (oh horrible word, delete delete) audit the audit.
P.S. I will reveal my shameful grades in the next blog post.
Image from "A book of cheerful cats and other animated animals" (1903). Internet Archive Book Images. Public domain.