I have begun to try and figure out what plans there seem to be in place, that Penelope and Andrew are trying to make life more surreal than it needs to be. I’m used to living life in full logical order, not having things turned upside-down by people who connive unusual scenarios and don’t know how to give a straight answer. Up until recently, I’d presumed myself to be overall pretty happy with life. My job, while not always fulfilling, has been steady and I’m generally pleased with how things have been turning out.
I’d never given much thought to what might have been missing, preferring to think on what I did have than not. Still, I was content with an unadventurous life. Things were easier when I rented a small flat from an uninvolved person whose main concern was that rent and bills were paid on time.
I was unhappy, though I didn’t first realize it. At first I attributed it to working too many hours and sleeping too few; then I cycled through half-a-dozen hobbies trying to break the monotony of the work/sleep/weekend pattern that was rapidly forming. It wasn’t long before the postcards began to arrive, each one stamped in a different city and bearing little to no message; maybe a few words, a brief greeting or some new platitude.
They tapered off as quickly as they started, the last one reading a message about unhappiness. As ever, I was in the dark as to how my supposed landlords always managed to correctly guess at my state of being at any given time.
“Unhappiness is caused by believing that something is missing that we need to be happy”, read the last card.
I took this to mean that the lack of adventure or excitement in life was making me unhappy; clearly, it was time for an adventure.