I decided to paint my basement while high on mushrooms. Actually, the choice to paint my basement came long before the mushrooms. I'd gotten paint the week before, taped off the appropriate places and washed all the walls down. But it was while high on mushrooms that I decided to begin the actual task itself.
As I sat there, rolling the dark blue colour across the wall, I started to wonder what the point of it all was. “If this life is all there is,” I said to myself (and possibly my cat), as I paused in my task, “then why am I even wasting time painting this room? I mean… nothing even really matters. It's all just so pointless.” The cat did not seem to have an opinion, one way or the other, and stared back at me blankly.
"But, if nothing even matters," I continued, "then that means I should be taking joy in every moment that I can. I SHOULD be painting this room because it makes me happy right now. I SHOULD be embracing hedonism. If there's no tomorrow and our actions have no karmic consequences, then shouldn't I be making every single second count, with the explicit purpose of bringing amusement to myself?" I asked aloud. Again, the cat stayed silent.
"We're all going to die," I told him ominously and then began to laugh and weep, as I resumed my painting. The cat, used to my antics, looked at me for several more seconds before lifting his back leg over his head and turning his attention toward grooming his nether regions. "Typical," I sighed. "You are no help. I think I have to stop painting now because the walls look like they are melting and it's making me feel sick."
