I hate to break it to you…
But it is an absolute guarantee that a good number of completely sucky things will happen to you before you croak it.
233, to be exact.
Or something close to that. It’s very unlikely to be less than 100.
Just today, I waited for 3.5 hours at the migration office to hand in my documents only to find out I couldn’t apply for the residency permit.
Sarcastic happy dance ensued.
But at least my number dropped to 232 there and then.
Now, I know things get far worse than this, but isn’t it interesting what happens at the psychological level when we put a number on upcoming sucky events?
And boy oh boy, are they coming.
For you and me.
But with a number attached, you’ve now built this into your expectations.
Instead of forced sighing, slammed doors, and grimacing, you take out your pen and cross out another number.
What does life look like when you believe you’re entitled to any less than 233?
You mould your life in a rather desperate attempt to keep this number at zero.
