I am constantly amazed at how the certainty of my own impending, though unscheduled, death has not helped to motivate me to stop wasting whatever time I have left. When it comes to a choice of bloviating on a little-visited off-topic internet forum, or doing something really critical, like taking out the garbage, I always seem to do the diddle.
In another age, I used to attend Buddhist services where the phrase, "...like fish living in a little water, what kind of comfort and tranquility can there be? Let us practice eagerly and diligently as though extinguishing a fire upon our heads," was regularly recited.
Yet here I am. Deluded as ever with a can full of garbage.