I was playing with a retirement calculator. You type in when you expect to retire, your saving plans, how long you plan to live, and your anticipated living expenses in retirement. It doesn't take long for you to intensely resent your future self. What a goldbricking mooch. So I cut him off.
"Screw Old John," I muttered as I massaged the numbers until I got something attainable. "If he lives past 82, he's on his own."