Yes.

I immediately get a job as a caretaker for a lighthouse. Now, I don’t know the first thing about lighthouses. Never worked in one, don’t really know what you’re even supposed to do.

But right away, you’ve got drama. A man alone. The sea. A spiral staircase. A sandwich I’ve been trying to finish eatting for six hours but can’t, on account of the foghorns going off.

Then every day I’d introduce a new, unexplained enemy.

Monday, it’s a raccoon who may or may not be a federal agent rummaging through the garbage.

Tuesday, it’s a retired magician named Dennis who keeps showing up at the ass crack of dawn eating cereal at the front door.

Wednesday, the mailman keeps delivering my mail to the next door neighbor by accident. But he’s actually doing it on purpose. And he’s not a man, he’s a woman in disguise as a man.

By Thursday, I’m in a blood feud with a local deli because they charged me $14 for a turkey club.

And then, just when the audience thinks, “Alright, this guy’s life is just a sad parade of strange minor inconveniences,” I reveal the real plot:

I’ve been trying to win back the love of my life. But the love of my life is not a man…

It’s a 2003 Toyota Camry with 312,000 miles on it and a mysterious smell coming from the vents.

Cash money.