This morning on my walk, I listened to a TED Radio Hour episode called “Future You.” It was fantastic perspective, and I encourage anyone to invest the 48 minutes it takes to listen to the show in its grand entirety.

“Who will you be in 10 years? in 20 years”” the episode synopsis asks. “Envisioning how you will evolve is very hard. This hour, TED speakers share ideas on how to better plan for the future, while allowing for the unexpected.”

They had me at “plan for the future.” But the “allowing for the unexpected” took me down a rabbit hole I hadn’t expected to explore. Basically, the premise is we can plan and prepare all day for our one-day selves — the mission of Grand Plans — but maybe we’re doing ourselves a disservice if we’re not expecting ourselves to grow or change during that time. If we’re not humble in our approach, then we could really step on our own toes — the toes of the stranger that is our future selves. I know — deep.

But it’s so def something to think about. One example they discussed was a woman who had told her husband over and over again throughout there marriage to “just shoot her” if she had a terminal illness that stole her independence and mind. If I recall, I think she had all the right legal documents prepared to thwart any heroic means to save her life should she need to be resuscitated or put on a machine. She was resolute on this plan. Her husband was very clear on this, too, as the two of them had talked about it and played “the what if game” during their marriage — these were professional, well-practiced grand planners! That is, until the wife’s future-me appeared on the horizon. After being diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease and unable to breathe, the woman found herself at the hospital answering the question they had long prepared to answer: did she want to be put on a ventilator? Much to her husband’s surprise, she nodded “yes.”

So our future-selves, they can change their minds!? Interesting. This is one thing I hadn’t considered in my Grand Plans prep work. Could we actually DEVIATE from the beautiful, thoughtful, wise planning we’d designed in our younger, healthier years? Seems so.

This really should come as no surprise to me. I’m always looking out for “Tomorrow Me.” I make myself coffee the night before so “Groggy Morning Me” can be served up a fresh, brimming cup with zero effort. I make my bed each morning so “Tired Nighttime Me” can feel hotel-pampered and wrinkle-free when she slides into the sheets. Most times, I make sure the laundry I’m folding isn’t inside-out so the next “In a Big Hurry Trying to Look HAWT Me” won’t have to extricate herself from the clothing, ruin her hairdo and get deodorant all over the sweet fit she carefully chose.

What I hadn’t considered, is that the things that make “Tomorrow Me” happy now, may not be the things that give her sh**s and giggles 10 years down the road. For example, I would KILL “Yesterday Me” if she tried to line up all my morning medications in a little container the night before because that sounds totally OCD and I’m not there yet. However, “Future Me,” the geri-girl I look forward to meeting one day, may very well appreciate — and NEED — it.

Like everything else in life, we sigh a big WTAH and remember that humility is everything. We can only do our best for our Tomorrow-selves and be open to change when — not if — it comes. And like any accomplished Grand Planner, we expect it because we’ve talked about and normalized the conversation.