What do you do for fun? You know, when you’re not trying to accomplish anything, nor Grow As A Person. Yes, it’s great that you love your work. Nice for you, but that’s not what this is about. I mean fun, pure purposeless fun.
Our neighbors are having yet another party. Their idea of fun involves bland fatty food and noise, both human and mechanical. There is laughter, but it sounds forced and somehow insincere. And it makes me wonder if they’re really having fun, or if they’ve defined the activity as fun and dammit they’re going to do it as loudly as they can.
I asked Robert what fun is. In his typically unhelpful way, he started singing “Whatcha gonna do when you get out of jail? I’m gonna have some fun!”
As I write this, I’m tweeting to a friend I’ve never met not to give up on a buffet just because she’s so full that her stomach is cramping. That’s fun. My dog is fun. Even getting the primo parking space can be fun. Writing to you is fun.
I give up. Fixing a nice meal and enjoying it in solitude with a favorite book is also fun. They’re making speeches next door. I'm going to fix that meal right now.
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