Do you ever measure the quality of your life using ridiculous standards that only a five year old, or someone from Jackass would approve of?

Look at me, I’m driving a car, I am so cool! Oh, it’s 2am on a work night? Who cares? I’m a grownup! Look! A hundred dollar bill, who’s successful now?

For full transparency, I work from home, so I drive almost never, I fail to keep my eyes open much past 10:30pm and that $100 bill, who carries cash? Not this girl! I would have to drive to the bank to get it, no thanks!

I also have a ‘health test’ if you will, that I employ from time to time but especially whenever I go upstairs to my bedroom. It’s called the ‘murder test’. What is the ‘murder test’? I’m glad you asked, and if you didn’t well, you should have.

To perform the murder test, I pretend someone – or some thing; hey I’m all about equal opportunity monsters – is chasing me to either kill me or eat me, or I suppose, kill me by eating me.

I run upstairs as fast as I can, like I’m in a John Carpenter movie and evaluate my state of health based on whether I would make it to safety or end up a zombie snack. The result, I am honey roasted morsel or whatever the favored flavor of the undead is these days.

Maybe my test isn’t as sophisticated as a BMI, EKG or digital scale but I feel I’ve watched enough horror movies to find the motivation to make the necessary life changes.

P.S. Not everything I share is educational but who knows, this tip might have saved someone’s life.