With all necessary apologies to Albert Camus, there's a valuable -- though admittedly quite watered-down -- lesson in "The Myth of Sisyphus" that virtually everyone can relate to.

Camus' musings on that Greek mythological figure condemned to forever push a rock up a mountain, only to watch it inevitably fall back down every time he reaches the top, seem to leave only one conclusion as to how to deal with the absurdity that surrounds us in this world: Just go with it.

It doesn't take much looking to notice the ridiculous. I notice it in myself far more often than I'd like; if I try to regulate my caloric intake in a given day, for example, I'm just as likely as not to substitute a four-pack of chocolate-covered mint Oreos for dinner and somehow feel like I've come out even on the exchange.

There's certainly a bit of Sisyphusian ridiculousness to my job, with its ever-present cycle of tasks and deadlines, and my attempt last year to learn to play the violin -- which consisted almost exclusively of buying a used violin off Craigslist -- was perhaps the very definition of ridiculous.

Then there's the ridiculousness that crops up on a daily basis in the world around me, which has only seemed to increase as political correctness has entrenched itself in our collective mentality. Now, is it better to say "mentally challenged" than "retarded"? Of course.

But is it necessary for the towing company that monitors the lot behind my apartment building to post a sign telling violators that unauthorized vehicles will be "relocated"? You're not fooling anyone, people. You drive tow trucks, not "vehicle relocaters." Nobody's handing you her keys and waiting patiently while her car enjoys a welcome change of scenery.

There's also a fair amount of ridiculousness that springs from political trendiness. For instance, imagine my surprise when I pulled into the parking garage at the Home Depot in Chicago's South Loop the other day, only to find that virtually the entire center portion of the lot was restricted to alternative-fuel vehicles.

This one is probably thanks to all the Midwestern corn farmers in the area, but am I really supposed to believe that a guy driving a flex-fuel Chevy Tahoe deserves a better parking space on the merits of his environmental friendliness than I do, driving a two-door '97 Civic? Even on the off chance he really is filling the tank with E85, he's burning through it at a much higher rate than he would on regular gasoline. Yes, by all means, that's the kind of environmental decision that warrants a privileged parking space. Ridiculous.

Plenty of things that are fun are also patently ridiculous, like waiting in line to watch a midnight showing of a just-released movie or, say, getting so insanely competitive and distracted in a game of Cranium that you somehow decide that the best picture to sketch to get your teammate to say "Star Wars" would be one of Darth Vader. What -- the five lines it would have required to draw a star weren't a big enough challenge for you? (Not that I'm naming any names on that one.) Oh, and, for the record, we still won.

And really, with all due respect to holiday traditions that I sincerely do love, how did we collectively decide that eating turkey for dinner was the best way to demonstrate our thankfulness on an annual basis? And how in the name of stuffing and mashed potatoes did green-bean casseroles get involved? For that matter, how does treating an evergreen tree like a houseplant mark the Christmas season? And don't even get me started on the Easter bunny.

Yes, it seems that even the best things in life aren't void of absurdity, and while on the one hand an appropriate response would be an enthusiastic roll of the eyes and an exasperated sigh, I think Sisyphus had the right idea: Embrace the absurd. Push the rock up the mountain, watch it fall and chuckle as you make a conscious decision to walk back down the steep incline and start over again. After all, even Camus concluded that, cursed fate and all, "One must imagine Sisyphus happy."