It was a comment on my desire to keep a tidy, welcoming, cozy home. And it was correct.
In the end nothing matters.
We’re all on a path to the same destination; our mortality. I mean, who better to realize this than a mortician? Who better to appreciate libertine values?
In the end, does anything really matter? I suppose not, if you think about it. We all end up dead and sure as shootin’ the world carries on.
Who cares if your dirty undies take up space next to a sports bottle that has leaked on the white carpet? Only an asshole I suppose. I mean, after all, we’re all just getting older, and we all just want to be happy, right? So, who cares if all of the linens, dishes and groceries get tossed in various and sundry places? It keeps things exciting right? Besides, what’s life but a grand adventure?
There is no better quality of life than looking for shit because you haven’t the time to be organized or respect shared living space. Joie de vivre etcetera….
Bullshit and wrong. Absofuckinglutely wrong.
The same people who who claim to be chill, free spirits are the same people who expect you to respect what does f*ing matter to them; golf, football, bubble baths, not being woken up during their weekend naps, a welcoming home, the daily crossword, listening to the weather, being on time, morning coffee, evening tea…which means they expect you to respect them.
I was reminded that people who do not respect me do not care about what f*ing matters to me, and that costs me precious time.
“None of this fucking matters. I just want to be happy and live my life. You should try it.”
If you hear this, be sure to remind yourself that if you are loved and if you are respected, the little things that f*ing matter to you, will f*ing matter to them. The end.