Cavitation, Psycho-therapist

I'll miss my little coffee chats with Cavitation. He seems genuinely interested in trying to force his unique, cheery life view upon me, as though his soul is crying out for some kind of validation to justify its suppression under this false guise of direction and purpose. Naturally, I see right through this. But I play along, since he's on his was to Costa Rica, and I can keep up the clever ruse for another couple weeks to humor him.

Back on Friday, he asked me the bizarrest of questions. He had apparently been mulling over my description of the various joys that children have brought to my life, and he said something that went more-or-less like this,

"So, what is it that makes you tick? What goal are you working to?"

Naturally, I answered completely truthfully, as I really cannot keep up the clever ruse for another couple weeks to humor him.

"Death."

See, I never really planned my life past the point where I had a career, house, wife, kids, dog, pickup truck, and lawn tractor with snow blower attachment. The only thing I really have planned at this point is death. Not right away, mind you, but at some point years into the future. I really have no idea what one does in between.

Cavitation didn't like my answer, so I think I may have changed it to "alcohol" at some point in an attempt to lighten the mood. I don't so much enjoy talking about death, as it's a bit of a conversation-killer. A lot like talking about what you saw on The View this morning. Or American Idol. Ooooo Sanjaya!

But, eventually, he got all happy-eyed and triumphant and declared, "You're having a mid-life crisis." Then he went off on a riff about how people are having mid-life crises earlier than ever because they're putting off children, so they hit their late twenties and have nothing left to live for.

I guess I need to go out and get me a sports car like El Torito got when he had his midlife crisis like 8 years ago.

But, instead, I went out and got me two cubic yards of mulch. Gorilla hair mulch, not killer mulch. Tomorrow, I'll go get more, since it didn't quite do the front planting beds, and we still have the back to go.

An interesting thing was that last night, The Mrs. and I watched Click. In this movie, a guy gets a remote control that lets him fast-forward through the boring parts of his life, and he ends up fast-forwarding pretty much all the way to his death. It was a remarkable coincidence that this movie arrived from Netflix on the same day that I had that conversation with Cavitation. And then, at the end of the movie, The Mrs. said, "This movie is your life."