I have come to realise, in my humble and tranquil reality, that the meaning of life is this, not all in this particular order:
Yell at someone.
Get yelled at by someone.
Fuck someone. (No, really, or the next-best thing, get fucked by someome).
Retire to bed.
Have someone else cook dinner.
Take sleeping pill and kiss this fucking day goodbye.
Wake up . . .