But somebody made the mistake of giving us an imagination.
You need milk.
That's it.
Milk.
You have gone to the store hundreds of times.
There is absolutely no reason for this trip to become memorable.
And yet—
you pull out of the driveway and somebody in the passenger seat says:
“And so it begins.”
Oh no.
😂
The errand has acquired a plot.
You are no longer going to the grocery store.
You are undertaking:
Objectives:
Enter establishment.
Locate dairy sector.
Secure target.
Return safely.
Secondary objective:
Maybe cookies.
The mission is considered compromised if you return with fourteen other things and forget the milk.
Which, statistically, seems likely.
This works alarmingly well.
Taking out the trash becomes:
THE MIDNIGHT REFUSE EXPEDITION
even when it's 6:15 in the evening.
Going upstairs for your glasses:
THE ASCENT
Looking under the couch for the remote:
THE SEARCH FOR THE LOST CONTROLLER
Changing a lightbulb:
OPERATION: RESTORE THE SUN
Going to the mailbox:
THE DAILY CORRESPONDENCE RETRIEVAL
Putting groceries away:
PROVISIONS HAVE ARRIVED
Trying to get the fitted sheet onto the mattress:
No.
We've discussed this.
Advanced sorcery.
😂
This is where things can become unnecessarily magnificent.
Imagine unloading the dishwasher to dramatic orchestral music.
Not casually.
Each plate is retrieved with purpose.
The cutlery drawer opens.
Violins rise.
A saucepan is returned to its rightful place.
Cymbals.
Nobody has ever put away Tupperware with this much emotional significance.
The lid fits.
The music swells.
You stare into the middle distance.
The kingdom is saved.
This technique should be used responsibly.
Your companion is trying to assemble furniture.
You begin:
“For generations, humans have attempted to understand the mysterious language of the instruction manual.”
They ignore you.
Continue.
“Our subject appears confident.”
They turn the page upside down.
“This confidence may be premature.”
😂
Or perhaps someone is parallel parking.
Do not narrate this.
The Department has reviewed the matter.
Absolutely not.
Going into another room?
Pause in the doorway.
Look back.
Say:
“If I don't return...”
Wait.
Someone will eventually ask:
"What?"
Reply:
“Tell the dog I tried.”
Walk into the kitchen.
You are going for crackers.
🤣
You went outside to retrieve something from the car.
You were gone forty-three seconds.
Reenter the house.
Stand in the doorway.
Take a deep breath.
Say:
“I've seen things.”
Do not elaborate.
This is particularly useful when shopping with children.
Or adults willing to behave like children.
You have entered Aisle Seven.
The cart develops a slight squeak.
It is now your expedition vehicle.
Name it.
The HMS Broccoli.
The Cart of Destiny.
Sir Rolls-a-Lot.
Perhaps the left wheel refuses to cooperate.
Excellent.
Now the vehicle has a character flaw.
Every good story needs one.
The washing machine has three minutes remaining.
Everyone gathers.
2:59.
2:58.
Someone whispers:
“Come on...”
There is no reason for this.
The machine is functioning perfectly.
2:57.
“She's holding.”
2:56.
“Stay with us!”
If anyone enters the room at this point, offer no explanation.
They may join or leave.
If you are doing the job, you are entitled to appropriate credentials.
Watering plants?
Keeper of the Ferns.
Making sandwiches?
Architect of Lunch.
Vacuuming?
Defender of the Carpet Realm.
Looking for something everyone else has somehow failed to locate?
Grand Finder of Things Directly in Front of You.
Replacing the toilet-paper roll?
Steward of Civilization.
That one may be accurate.
Wait.
There isn't one.
Excellent.
We nearly had another incident.
😂
The assignment is simply this:
Take one thing you have done hundreds of times.
Give it a ridiculous name.
Add unnecessary importance.
Perhaps provide narration.
Then complete the task.
The floor still gets swept.
The groceries still get purchased.
The laundry still gets folded.
But for five minutes, the ordinary machinery of life becomes something else.
A mission.
An expedition.
A heroic undertaking.
A story.
And sometimes—
that is considerably more fun than simply buying milk.