So you’re sitting on the throne, thinking, “Why am I here?”.

The answer you expect is not trivial like “Chinese food last night.”, but more philosophical - What is the purpose of life? Why are we here?

Guess what? The answer *is* trivial. I figured it out. Totally. In the most rad, absolutely awesome way. Like Newton discovered gravity. Like Archimedes discovered that buoyancy stuff. The answer is - Repairs.

Yes, repairs.

A tube-light stopped working yesterday. “Needs a new starter”, I thought. The lock on my office door became unruly. “Needs oiling”. And then it hit me. Like 220 volts of raw, uninhibited, power. This is it all about, ain’t it? Getting things fixed?

Your car needs servicing every six months. The locks need oiling. Your jeans needs altering. Belt buckles need to be replaced. The solid, pointy ends of your shoelaces wear out and then the shoelaces need to be replaced. Not to mention the scrubbing and the polishing. And don’t even get me started on Suede. Wall-clocks, TV remotes (Clickers for you, my Yankee friend), Cameras - all demand battery replacement all the time. Houses need to be re-painted.You grow fat, you get extensions on your wedding rings. Cut the grass. Clean the glass. Clean everything else.

This is what it’s all about. Getting things fixed. It’s not really philosophical, actually. Just a lot of trivial stuff that needs to be fixed doing which we spend all our lives. We are here to maintain order. To fix things so that they can work the way they’re supposed to. That’s why you take so good care of your grandfather’s ‘66 VW Beetle. So that you can pass it on to your son who can take care of it as well.

I guess that’s why some people renounce everything and go live in the Himalayas. It’s not about materialism. Hell, they can do with a good plasma TV, watch a documentary on yaks while sitting with one. It’s the dead pixels they don’t want to mess with.