Four Thousand Weeks, Deadloch

Four Thousand Weeks, Deadloch
Photo by Alexandre Debiève / Unsplash Could be the oncomming headlights of a beer truck.

What am I reading?

Crushed by the knowledge, I only have weeks to live.

I am still reading 4k Weeks by Oliver Burkeman. I am doing it on an audiobook. His voice is soothing. However, the title springs a bit of death and doom on us right out of the gate. Let me interject a quick disclaimer here. We have all the time in the world. There isn't anymore. How much time do you ask? About 80 years if you don't let the dog trip you in the street in front of a beer truck. Getting hit by a beer truck is my go-to choice for dying scenarios. Blame my father. He liked to say getting hit by a beer truck was the golden ticket of possible checking out stories." He sadly missed the opportunity. He died when we turned off his life support after a short fight with cancer. He did not get his 80 years. Now it's burned into my brain. When my time comes, I should check out in front of a beer truck, for my father's sake. So back to how long we have to live. The optimistic range is 80 years. Oliver Burkeman breaks that 80 years down in weeks. We have four thousand weeks. Doing some quick maths, based on my current age, I have another thousand weeks to go. I also calculated for my jindo dog. Based on her 14 years and taste for chewing the wrong furniture, she has 100 weeks to go. Sorry jindo dog, you get steak for dinner to soften the news of your impending demise. I hope you die in your sleep, not in front of a beer truck. Also, when I sprung this news on my husband, he was crippled by dread. "What are you reading?" So I imagine you are crippled by anxiety and wondering what I am reading. The bulk of the book following this gallows pronouncement point out the powerful insights that should help one live a more thoughtful, if not more productive life. That is knowing you can't do it all. No amount of time management or productivity practice will give you the satisfaction of picking from the choices in front of you. More on that next week.

What am I watching?

Speaking of death.

On Netflix, we started watching Deadloch. It's a murder comedy. The small-town police force struggle to solve a murder most grizzly. It's set in Tasmania, which looks lovely. The trees are all green, like in the pacific northwest, where I grew up, but they are not the same shape if you look closely. I enjoy watching foreign shows for their little differences. It's something subtle Willam Gibson likes to play with in his novels. For example, living in an American house is similar to living in a European house, but each home has subtle differences. This is part of the fun of watching shows from other countries. In addition, I love the dark humor. All the bar patrons lift a glass as the victim's body is slowly driven by the town bar going in the wrong direction. There areeight8 episodes in a single season. I have to share this show with my cousin in Tasmania to get her reaction.

Deadloch Trailer

LA'ha