Ok, so I’ve just spent two hours having breakfast, feeling a little unsettled and unproductive, wary of the long to-do list I wrote out for myself to achieve this weekend.

I’ve just returned to my bed, laptop balancing on my crossed legs.

And, because I’m someone who actually talks to themselves more than they realise, I uttered what I was thinking out loud. However even I, someone who wears lion claw slippers around the office and is extremely vocal about their distain for Daylight Savings Time in NSW, has enough self-awareness to know that, when talking to yourself, it’s best not to so loudly. No, despite unconsciously vocalising my thoughts aloud, I apparently still have the subconscious restraint to at least keep this to a low volume.

Anyway, I whispered “what am I going to do?” to myself, then tried to Google JB HiFi to look at DVDs to send a soul sister a cheeky gifto (it’s on my to-do list, you see, and it the item that requires the least amount of effort).

But I’d like to point out that my typing is extremely lazy these days because I know that spellcheck and predictive text will pick up the slack for me, so I don’t even really bother with getting all the characters in, much less in the correct order.

The first time I typed my query into Google, I accidentally wrote “jibhi”, which is, by the looks of the image, a really lush foresty place in India that was referred to as an “unexplored jewel in the Himalayas”.

The second time I tried, I just typed “jbi”, which brought up a bunch of ads for psychotherapy, counselling and wellness courses.

So, I suppose you could argue that the Internet was telling me to climb a mountain, return to nature and become a life coach.

I decided to try again, just for shits and gigs. Again, I aimed to type “JB HiFi” but let my lazy fingers do the walking. This time I came out with “bjfi”, which brought up a youth empowerment program in India.

I know, right?

And, I shit you not, I did this search at exactly 11.11am. Now, if you follow Paris Hilton across multiple social media platforms like I do, you’ll know from her Twitter posts that 11:11 is a time when you should make a wish.

If I were someone who was perhaps a little less cynical and a little more in touch with my spiritual side, I would absolutely view this kind of shit as fate – or at least a message from the Internet gods. I mean, this would be a flashing neon sign from the universe screaming at me to find myself and then help others on their own journeys.

But I’m not quite at the Eat, Pray, Love stage of my life just yet; I’m just someone who wanted to buy a moderately-priced movie over the internet without having to change out of my pony pyjama pants or put on shoes.

Look, the first suggestion was bang-on – I’d bloody love to go climbing Indian mountains and be outdoors in a place where there’s no construction noise or 17,000 people in navy blue puffer vests talking about Sydney house prices. But I’ve currently got minus zero dollars in m bank account and nothing of value to pawn for money that doesn’t require surgical removal, so that’s out.

Furthermore, I’m really not the kind of person who should be in a position to coach people about how to succeed life and boost their wellness – I mean, my overwhelming sense of meaningless, lack of business cards and that half-wheel of blue cheese that I ate for dinner last night demonstrates this pretty clearly.

As such, I’m especially ill-equipped and far too pessimistic to be guiding ambitious young people to their bright futures.

And, let’s face it, if I were turning to a search engine for answers about how to transform my burning compost head of a life, I’d hope for more of a quick-fix answer to flash back at me. Like maybe something along the lines of “wanted: sugar baby who has to in no way interact with their mysterious sponsor besides sending the occasional postcard from the exotic locations they travel to on the rich moron’s dollar” or “click here for obligation-free gelato samples, sent directly to your door – and not just the door of your apartment complex because the courier can’t work out the buzzer system, but your actual front door”.

Sorry universe, try harder.