I had a conversation with a colleague on the elevator the other day, the usual catch-up, “how was your weekend” thing. I said the usual, “the weekend was too short”. He said his was simple. That answer stuck with me. Most times, the answer you’d hear would be like mine: “too short” or “lazy” or “busy” or “fun”. His answer of “simple” made me think: “shouldn’t there be more simplicity in life?” I say yes. We spend far too much time complicating matters by trying to see what’s not there, doing what we shouldn’t or would rather not, or just putting ourselves out for no real reason. Why must we always choose what is pretty much guaranteed to cause us trouble? Why must we always work towards what everyone else says we should work towards? We have increasingly become a society of square pegs trying desperately to fit the circular holes in the range of life. Why is individuality good for some not all? When did we decide it was a good thing for misery to be a consistent part of the landscape? When will we wake up to doing things just for the pleasure of it, for the growing experience, to see where it takes us? Why can’t life be as simple as it should be?