It’s always the big ones that get ya, like “why are we here,” “what does it all mean,” and “what idiot decided to discontinue the old peanut butter Snickers in the red wrappers, they were so good, oh my god, you guys, you guys.”

“What do you want to be when you grow up” seems like a tough question. Everything you are, everything you ever will be, seems to hinge on it. It stares you in the face and says “this is it, fucker, you get one shot. Choose wisely.” But it’s a trick question. Because the correct answer isn’t “the president” or “an astronaut” or “fabulously wealthy.” The answer is “happy.” Everything else is just details.

…Well, the other right answer is “ghostbuster,” but I suppose that one is somewhat less readily attainable.