Today as I was having a mid-afternoon nervous breakdown accompanied by a snack of English muffin toast topped with peanut butter & a side of pineapple orange juice I got to thinking.
I get to thinking a lot, but today my thinking had an actual linear quality.
As I crunched my toast I thought: my 20s could probably be summed up as the quest to get drunk. My 30s were a quest to get laid. Now I’m in my 40s and it seems my one true quest is to get peanut butter into my mouth in as many ways as possible. Yes, my 40s are a quest for peanut butter.
I was pretty happy about that quest as a crunched on that peanut buttery toast. Now, I’m not so sure. I mean, there are worse things to quest for in your forties, right? Eternal youth, cool, money, windmills. I don’t know. I mean, peanut butter is pretty good. Plus, Nutter Butters.