It's so bad I don't even feel like writing about it. The fact that I can even think like this means I'm not dead yet. Doing one good deed a day is how an old man like me maintains his self-esteem and connects him to society. But I don't know if it comes from self-loathing or the influence of his family environment. I somehow get the sense that he feels this way more strongly than most people when I'm with him. I can barely remember what I had for dinner last night, and it takes a while...