What to Do When God Shits on Your Saturday
After last weekend turned into some kind of sun-drunk proof that life is worth living—good music, long afternoons, substances I’ll decline to specify—this one arrived with God apparently settling a score. Rain since Friday morning. Thunder carrying a personal grievance. The exact shade of grey sky that makes you check the clock and feel worse when you realize it’s still afternoon.
I have no razor blades in the house, which is probably for the best. What I have is the self-titled SBTRKT album, a working television, and a couch that’s beginning to feel like a long-term relationship. The first move is obvious: put the album on and let it loop until you’ve done something so inexplicably romantic that all the candles in your apartment light themselves. Then go outside and dance in the rain until it stops. Come back inside. Feel empty and aimless. This is not a problem to be solved.
Apple released OS X Lion this week, which I downloaded with genuine optimism and have been punishing myself for ever since. Reverse scrolling. An autocorrect that treats everything you type as a personal offense. Browsers that behave like something is neurologically wrong with them. The future of computing apparently requires unlearning fifteen years of muscle memory and I’m not in a forgiving enough mood for that today.
For the rest of the weekend: invite everyone over and play Lego, because nobody is actually too old for Lego and the people who claim otherwise are lying to themselves. Or do the complete couch-potato sweep in a single sitting—lie in the bath, watch something on a laptop balanced on the edge of the sink, eat popcorn until the water goes cold, then sleep so long it becomes embarrassing. Change your gum. You know which flavor I mean. You’ve been chewing it for months and everyone around you has noticed even if they haven’t said anything.
Do it from behind. Best position. No argument.
Grow a third nipple and name it Harry. Order from every delivery service operating in your area simultaneously and eat in the order of arrival. Happy bursting.