Our yard backs right up to a football field so we hear a lot of cheerleaders and crowds cheering at full volume. And sometimes, on days when I am in the kitchen, standing in front of that absurd sink of dishes, feeling like Sisyphus, I like to pretend they are cheering for me.
It is very encouraging.
I bet if Camus* had lived near a football field we never would have even heard of man's futile search for meaning.
when i do the dishes all i hear are the screams of my children in the other room killing eachother
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