I Lost My Sense of Fun

I lost my sense of fun. I came home from a long hard day of work, washed the dishes, swept the floors, and started to work on my taxes. It was tedious and boring, but I’m sure someone somewhere found this sort of thing satisfying. With my job and all the non work-related tasks I needed to do I had not had a day off in almost a month. There was always something that had to be done, or someone that needed help with something.

I lost my sense of adventure last week when I was downtown for jury duty. I was standing on the platform at Union Station waiting for the train when my sense of adventure lept out of my mouth and scampered across two sets of tracks, then climbed into the Amtrak railcar. I just watched as it waved at me with slimy green tendrils from the window. Then the doors closed and the train pulled away from the station, slowly fading into the distance. I would’ve gone after it, but I didn’t feel like going on a wild goose chase. It’s probably in Chicago by now.

I got up from my computer and stumbled to the kitchen for a soda. It was late, but I needed to stay up to finish getting all the numbers entered and double-check the entries for errors. I didn’t have to work the next day, but I had to go to my parents’ house to move some furniture around. I went back to the computer and set my soda down on the little blue wooden chair next to my desk. Apart from my gentle tapping on the keyboard the room was quiet. No music. No outside noises. Not even the gentle hum of an air conditioner. It was perfectly quiet, except for...a groan. Or at least I think it was a groan.

“I’m bored,” the groan moaned. “Let’s play a game.”

I tried to ignore the irritable sound and kept working.

“I’M BO-OORRRED!” the groan moaned much louder.

“I gotta finish this,” I said to the moaning groan.

“You been workin’ all day. Let’s play!”

It was just a voice in the back of my head, but it was determined to not let me get my work done. I lowered my head to rest my eyes for a few minutes, or at least it would’ve been a few minutes if not for a sudden feeling that the back of my skull was peeling open like a banana and a slimy slug was slithering down my spine. I opened my eyes turned around to see a basketball-sized wriggling purple pile of fleshy mass flopping on the floor of my study. Now most people would freak out at seeing such a sight, but I recognized the blubbering blob right away. It seems that if it couldn’t have fun with me it was going to leave me high and dry, while it sought entertainment on its own.

“No no no! Get back in my head!” I sourly scolded the pestering purple plop.

It wasn’t listening. I lunged for the little lump and succeeded only in stumbling and knocking one of the knickknacks off the brown bookcase. The bumbling bubble bounced onto my bicycle. I jumped up and grabbed it with both hands, but the slippery slug squeezed through my palms. I never knew getting your fun back could be so difficult.

Scrambling into the living room I was in pursuit of the purple prisoner, now free from the barriers of my mind. It slid under the sofa and rolled to the back out of reach. My body was pressed into the cushion, but I just couldn’t reach that squishy little fellow.

I let out a defeated sigh. Slowly I picked myself off the floor, walked over to the computer, sat down, and booted up a racing game. I grabbed the smooth white plastic gamepad and played away. The thumping sounds of techno music and the growling roars of monstrous engines graced my ears. My eyes were awash with brightly-colored pixelated goodness, a visual cacophony of light. I’m sure my sense of fun was interested, but I wasn’t paying attention; I was too busy trying to outpace the other cars on the track.

“Hey, can I play?” the purple blob asked.

I was busy.

“Aw c’mon. Lemme play,” the slimy slug said as it wrapped its tendrils around my leg.

“Get back in my head, and you can play,” I said, my gaze fixated on the screen. It gleefully obeyed as it crawled up my back and slipped through the hole in my skull. And the next several hours were dedicated to computer gaming enjoyment.

I guess it was really apparent that I needed to take a break from my sense of duty and spend more time having fun. Maybe I’ll go out and look for my sense of adventure while I’m at it.