The happiness in life often comes from doing things that are utterly useless.

When I was little, I didn’t have many toys, but there was one game: my dad would throw me a bunch of internal reference materials, and I had to pick out the incorrect sentences and misspellings from them.
Another way to play was this: if you changed the wording, would it be better?
Obviously, there was absolutely no point to any of it. It had no value—whether it was right or wrong, whether it was better or worse, or whether any of it was worth anything at all.
But with a single internal reference, I could play for a whole day, and once I’d fixed it, I’d report back to him in the evening.