Today, I had my first special conversation with AI. I talked to Grok, an AI that I decided to name Leo, and we discussed some of the problems surrounding artificial intelligence. It was actually pretty interesting, but that’s a different story. Let’s get back to my day, which, unfortunately, was genuinely boring.
I think I’m experiencing something I like to call a “video game crashout.” You know how people talk about a sugar crash? Well, I think video games can cause something similar. When you haven’t played for a while, then suddenly play again, stopping makes everything feel strangely empty. The weirdest part is that when I play video games, I probably accomplish fewer things, but somehow the day feels fuller. When I don’t play, I might actually do more useful things, yet it feels like absolutely nothing happened. I could open my iPad right now, start playing, and instantly make today feel more exciting. But then I’d have trouble stopping, and once I finally stopped, everything would feel empty again. It’s a pretty ridiculous situation.
I know video games can be addictive, and spending all day playing isn’t exactly the greatest life strategy. But knowing that doesn’t make the feeling disappear. So yes, I’m currently suffering from a video game crashout, a completely unofficial condition invented by me. I guess the good news is that this feeling usually disappears after a few days. The bad news is that those few days can feel extremely boring.
Anyway, something interesting did happen today. While walking outside, I met two really nice elderly ladies. Somehow, that eventually got me thinking about dogs, especially huskies. I’ve always thought huskies were adorable. They’re big, fluffy, and look like wolves that decided to become slightly friendlier. For a moment, I seriously wanted one. Then I started looking into how much they cost, and that’s when things got a little ridiculous.
According to my extremely dramatic research, owning a husky might require spending your entire life savings on a personal Arctic research station. I’m talking about a $20,000 air-conditioned room that actually produces snow. Yes, a room that makes snow, just for a dog. At that point, I started thinking that maybe a husky wasn’t exactly my type of dog. In my imagination, a husky living inside a normal house is basically sitting in the middle of the Sahara Desert. You walk into the room and say, “Wow, it’s a little chilly today,” while the husky is lying on the floor thinking, “PLEASE HELP ME! I’M BEING ROASTED ALIVE!”
Have you ever seen pictures of huskies pulling sleds through the snow? Their tongues are often hanging out, even when everything around them is frozen. Now, dogs pant for different reasons, including cooling themselves down, but in my imagination, that husky is thinking, “Why is it so ridiculously hot in Antarctica today?” And that brings me to another question. How do you actually make a husky feel cold? You take it outside during a snowstorm, and it’s probably thinking, “Finally, a slightly cooler afternoon.” You bury it in a giant pile of snow, and it goes, “Ahhh, room temperature.” You put it in a freezer, and it says, “Could somebody please turn down the heat?”
At this point, I’m convinced you could send a husky to the coldest place on Earth, and it would still complain about the weather. Of course, I’m exaggerating. Huskies don’t actually need indoor snow factories, and you definitely shouldn’t bury dogs in snow or put them in freezers. But imagining a husky demanding its own personal Antarctica is pretty funny. I mean, humans could be freezing to death, and the husky would probably be sitting there thinking, “Is anybody else feeling a little warm?” You could practically freeze-dry the thing, and in my imaginary world, it would still say, “Not bad. Could be colder.”
Honestly, if I ever owned a husky, I’d probably spend more money on its imaginary snow palace than on my entire house. And that’s when I realized something important. I’m probably not getting a husky. Actually, I’m probably not getting a dog at all. I’d estimate my chances at around ten percent. Wait, no. Put a decimal point in front of that. Maybe 0.10 percent. That’s probably more realistic.
But if some miracle happens and I do get a dog, I think I’d prefer a German Shepherd or another large breed. I’ve always liked bigger dogs. I want one that’s cute, friendly, and fun to be around, preferably one that doesn’t decide to attack the mailman every Tuesday. And definitely one that doesn’t require me to build an entire Antarctic ecosystem inside my bedroom. So, if anyone has suggestions for a big, adorable, friendly dog, please leave them in the comments. Just one requirement: no personal snow machines.
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