Then one day, through her permanent frown, she glanced at her organiser. She was fifty, her face was starting to hold wrinkles and her skin was sagging already. Her lips seemed to be distorted with what looked like a permanent grimace.
And the average human life span bordered somewhere close to sixty.
Assuming she had only ten more years to continue frowning and glowering at people, she hardly had any time left.
And then it hit her.
If mortality is your default setting, you cannot afford the nonsense you think you are eligible to indulge in.