The sense of meaninglessness is excellent.  I felt lost at the end of the piece too.  Ending on the momentary feeling of happiness - well, feeling great anyway - was really cool.

I firmly believe that when a life has meaning it is because the living being invented itself a goal.  While the result of failing to do this is clearly described in this story, there is no hint in the direction of redemption (or perhaps I missed it).  I had the same problem with The Old Man and the Sea and also Nausea by Sartre, so you’re in good company.

But just so you know, I was in highschool when I read The Old Man and the Sea, and as soon as I had finished it, I tore it in half and threw it in the garbage.  Several months later, my best friend told me it was his favorite book.  My appreciation for it came slowly and way after I read it.  Come to think of it, the Old Man’s goal was survival, and he achieved it.  So I was just young and stupid.  But I don’t think there was a goal in Nausea.

Very evocative of academic mornings after (and nights before)!