I carried the basket full of dirty clothing out of my room. It was a short walk made slightly longer by the weight of a weeks’ worth of laundry. I was happy when I realized half of the laundry had not been worn by me.

Darks first, in cold/cold with a short spin cycle. I made my way upstairs to write statements for a client. I indulge myself by eating four miniature chocolate bars, which had probably been created to give people the illusion they can satisfy a sweet-tooth by eating only a few smaller portions. People are never satisfied.

The orange, plastic cup of cola was sweating on the table. Beads of moisture formed on the outside, creating a substance with more nutritional value than the dark, sweet liquid inside. The chocolate and cola combined to give a sugar high that would drop me in about five minutes tops.

It was time to write, or time for nothing. If you figure all the nothing eventually amount to something, you’ll be disappointed on Judgement Day. You’ll be pleasantly surprised, however, when the Tax-man comes.

It isn’t up to God or taxes to explain the significance of a human life. Life is used up when time runs out, no matter how you spend it.