Noise in the Shape of Writing

I read Charles Kuralt's autobiography-ish thingy ("A Life on the Road") last month and there's a passage that I keep going back to. It's one where he talks about a fantastic trip opportunity he passed on in order pursue his career...

"I have had few regrets. One of them has to do with an invitation from a Minnesota north woodsman named Bill McGee. I had done a story about him, and over the camp fire that night Bill McGee invited me to take a canoe trip with him the next summer. He said he would like to go on one more long trip while he could still carry a canoe. Bill McGee told me that he would take me to lakes that few have ever seen. "I'd like to see them one more time myself," he said. I asked how long we would be gone. "Oh, six weeks -- eight at the most," Bill said. "We'll leave on the Fourth of July and be back by the end of August." I knew I was too busy to take that much time off of work, but to be polite I told Bill McGee I would think about it. During that winter, Bill would write to me, reminding me of the trip and his offer. But I never wrote back.
A year or two later, Bill's wife, Lucille, wrote me telling me that Bill had died. I wish with all my heart that I had made that long canoe trip with Bill McGee. I can't remember what I was doing from the Fourth of July to the end of August the summer he wanted to go fishing every night, listen to the loons, and see those distant lakes one more time. What could I have been doing that would have been better than that?" -- Charles Kuralt, A Life on the Road

Sometimes I feel like I am going through every day doing things that I wont remember in a week, let alone a year. I would love to be able to say "I know EXACTLY what I was doing that was better than (or at least as good as) that." I'd like to fill every week with at least a handful of things that, while I may not remember, I will at least be able to say with honesty "Whatever it was, I am sure it was not a waste of time."