A couple days after surviving a consulting project with only one lesson learned - that I never want to do anything like that again - I took a super long bath. Submerged myself up to my nostrils and layed there for a very long time. I noticed I could hear sounds all over the house from neighbors and pets. They sound completely different reverberating through the frame of the house, the ceramic of the tub, the warm water to my ears. It was a nice surprise to hear everyday boring sounds completely transformed into bonks and other-worldly clanks.
As I've mentioned, Fall makes me restless. I wish I could take everything about my daily world and make it reverberate into something different. Because everything seems repetitive and monotonous. Luckily I'm old enough now to know there's hardly a damn thing that's monotonous about this world. It just the Autumn wind whispering, teasing me with the notion that there's something more interesting somewhere, not here, somewhere where that wind is going.
My mind tries to entertain itself with Surrealist dreams. I was a cartoon two nights ago with giant, animated hammers bopping me in the head (which made a xylophone sound) and squishing me through tunnels into other worlds where there were lobsters, giant fish, dogs I could ride like horses, seahorses I could walk on leashes, purple pillows that I could fall into the inside of, and all kinds of crazy furry things that my conscious mind can't recover from my greedy subconscious memory now.
But last night my restless, bratty self sat back and found even the most vivid and fanciful dreams monotonous. All the dreams had a layer of deja vu as my narrative brain sat back and declared it all a recurring dream I've seen before. None of the dreams were actually recurring; they just felt that way while I was dreaming them. Yeah, I was in a jaded dream state. How lame is that?
As morning came closer, I banished a dream where my spine was hopelessly, painfully locked and turned it into an ocean dream - phew, happy I learned that trick. Swimming, bending, arching, swirling my fabulously healthy and flexible spine, I broke through the water's surface to find myself out at sea, floating alongside a boogie board just past the wave line, looking at a gloriously sinking sun. I hopped into a straddle over the board and stared right into that gloopy, droopy sunset gushing all over the ripply horizon. Just sat there blinding myself and enjoying that sexy tickle of the sun baking the salt water into crystals on my skin.
I knew I was dreaming and I reflected from within the dream that a boogie board is totally my Rosebud ... you know, that Orson Welles movie with the sled? Me floating on a boogie board out at sea is me young and healthy and completely unjaded, shiny, hopeful, filled with faith in endless possibility.
And then I opened my eyes and I was just laying in the bathtub again listening to the same old fucking sounds of annoying neighbors doing the same old damn things.
And then I woke up because laying in the bathtub is a really boring dream. Hmm, how do I wake up from this dream?
, is then calculated by adding up the probabilities to survive to every age. This is the expected number of complete years lived (one may think of it as the number of birthdays they celebrate). 
