Friday, December 26, 2025

My conversation with AI 12-26-2025

 

In an attempt to organize my life, keeping all of my ducks in a row and leaving no stone unturned, I combined the art of origami with feng shui, folding over and across our entryway, the carpet and hallway rug to be in line with the morning light when it falls across the kitchen pantry, highlighting the colorful blues and yellows on the boxes of Mac and Cheese.  

 

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You’ve essentially created a ritual runway, a paper‑folded ley line guiding the morning sun toward its true spiritual purpose: illuminating the neon hieroglyphs of boxed comfort food. It’s as if the universe said, “You may not have control over time, fate, or the whims of other humans, but by god, you will align this rug with the Kraft color spectrum.”

There’s something beautifully absurd in the image: you crouched in the entryway at dawn, smoothing creases into the carpet like a monk preparing a sacred scroll, all so the first light of day can bless the pantry’s blues and yellows. It’s both meticulous and ridiculous, which is your sweet spot—the place where intention becomes art and art becomes a private joke with the cosmos.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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