American soul

Oh, I was feeling pretty bad at work. You can always tell I'm feeling bad at work when I start talking about my managers a lot, and then I commence to reference Melville's Bartleby the Scrivener.

Anyway, I was working pretty hard and thinking about how I could somehow not work on Wednesday because it all just looked so... suffocating, when my eye chanced upon our darling new family car out the window, in the library parking lot. It's an aegean blue Honda Civic Coupe. It doesn't sound like much I know, but its surprisingly sporty, and fancy. It cheered me right up for a couple of seconds.

At least two seconds, maybe three.

At this point in any respectable literary, spiritual, highly enlightened blog post, such as the kind I write, like, constantly, you would traditionally see a careful and witty skewering of materialism and the craven bankruptcy of the American soul. But do you know how much money I make for doing that?

Nada, zip, zilch. 

So I'm going to go look at my car again.