Every week, we go back into the offices, coffee bars and morgues that we inhabit to pay various evil enterprises hell bent on conquering the world via billing everyone for being alive, and we sit at our respective locations. Our work colleagues / enemies come in, and more often than not, after the Hi, how are you / Oh, you’re still alive opener, the next question inevitably falls onto; how was your weekend?
Or in the case of enemies, “I’ll get you next time Gadget.”
Normally when asked this, the stock answer is “Not much.” and we leave it at that. Or if someone is feeling bold, they describe one event that they went to, which is a rare occurrence. Even better, if they just came back from holiday, then they will go into a bit of detail about the weather. Now, this doesn’t sound like the epic explosion of being the life and soul of the party, does it?
No sir / madam / evil alien with death ray, you would make the argument that life has become devoid of all meaning, that we are all bitter lifeless husks of human beings and promptly should find some drugs / booze to make the pain go away.
But when this become a bad thing?