Today we have been playing "what would you do if you had all the money in the world", that wholly productive inter-generational game to take your mind off the fetid heaps of washing, general squalor and belief that drilling red hot spikes through your eyeballs would be preferable to continuing your miserable existence as apathetic Eurodrone.
CFO: Give up work. Go live on goat farm at arse end of universe with a heap of kites, tortoises and machinery.
Lashes: Buy 40 000 lizards and train them to look for money people have dropped on the street.
Me: I have done this before on here, but today's embellishments included: Give up work. Buy Paris. Require all Parisians to go and live in Nether Poppleton. Import inhabitants of Brussels to Paris thereby creating best city in world. Transform whole Ile St Louis into nature reserve peopled by Kiki and his hos. Live reclusive life surrounded by shoes, macaroons and small neatly trimmed misanthropic dogs.
Fingers: Get a Playmobil rubbish truck.
I feel this must say something significant about us, but what precisely eludes me.
In other musings, I am seeking to understand the odd paradox at the heart of my food shopping (this is just a way of trying to make something appallingly dull sound more, ya know, clever/interesting). It goes like this:
- No food in house. Eat toast/fishfingers until sick of toast/fishfingers. Must go to shops.
- Go to shops. Buy lots of healthy, worthy, organic, raw and frankly dull foods.
- Bring them home, put them in fridge, feel glow of contentment and smugness. Imagine balanced healthy delicious meals with smiling contented family.
- [Moments later] Get hungry. Open fridge. Look at worthy organic foods. Dark night of the soul commences. Feelings of despair, rage and general emptyness consume me. Where are my trans fats? Where is my high salt content? Where is my crapola cellophane packaging? Damn you Belgium with your proper foods and absence of acceptably middle-class crap for lazy people.
- Find reason not to cook smug raw stuff ('because I am lazy/tired/mired in existential despair' mainly) and eat toast/fishfingers.
- Experience rising levels of guilt every time I open fridge. Ignore. Freeze any meat self-deludingly purchased. Eat more toast/fishfingers.
- Week later: shove everything in the bin. Experience crippling guilt.
- Cycle starts again.
Am I alone in this vicious circle of eco-terrorism? Is there any escape?
The robotic crab would like to remind you to wash your hands. Or it will nip them off.