a waste of a perfectly good life

a life sits in front of CSI for the fourth time in just a week.

this is perfectly good life. we've seen her before. travelling, taking pictures, laughing with friends, making plans, succeeding in her career. we've seen her crying and feeling sorry for herself, but not that often.

(pause as perfectly good life gets absorbed in CSI.)

so, here is perfectly good life, wasting away in front of the telly. being sold cleaning products she won't use. told about property prices she doesn't care about. watching americans being righteous. typing even though, perfectly good as she is, she knows this is bad behaviour.

(pause as perfectly good considers waiting until the ad break to finish this post. she ploughs on.)

and some have told her not to waste herself like this. and perfectly good life always smiled and shrugged. and so. smile and shrug, for old time sakes'.

(ad break. typing goes on, unabated.)

now, perfectly good life is neither as perfect nor as good as her name suggests. and it was probably perfectly wasted even before CSI appeared, with a vengeance, on the monotonous channel five. in any case, perfectly good life is getting all sorts of stupid notions in her head, and, frankly, watching CSI is probably way more productive and way less wasteful than following trains of thought such as...

(CSI starts again. soon the corpses will start getting autopsied)

god. anyway. perfectly good life is slightly old and battered these days, but no doubt she'll be restored to full functioning shiny perfection one day. and maybe then she'll stop watching CSI. although most likely, she won't.

(here, they found the missing DNA-fingerprint-saliva-stained-millenial-insect-only-found-in-baja-california-smeared-glass-stuck-inside-vic's-dental-cavities. phew.)