I once knew a man who lived life but didn’t love it. I’ll call him Lars.
Lars loved good scotch and beer, although he was not particularly picky. The truth was he simply loved alcohol. It fueled his depression, his feeling of failure. But, it also made him sociable when he didn’t want to be and at times it made him feel invincible. He also loved smoking, not “wacky weed,” good ole tobacco was his toxin of choice. Smoking cigarettes smoothed out the rough edges drinking kicked up.
Every morning a cigarette and a cup of coffee on the commode started his day. They boosted his metabolism, which made him think clearer. He could contemplate life, plan his day, make his excuses as he started his morning.
This particular morning was like any other. He had lost his latest job a month ago. He had hated it anyway. Who wanted to enter numbers in a database for eight hours a day? One day he left in the middle of his 8 to 4 after being there for 3 weeks. Okay, so it was 10:30-ish. A…