You couldn't say it was easy, and you wouldn't exactly call it fun, unless you're the kind of person who enjoys repeatedly goring yourself with a sharply pointed object.
It has been about as pretty as a mechanised dinosaur on a golf course. In point of fact, you couldn't even yet say it was done - in the legislatively proper sense of the word.
But the great tale of Australia's carbon tax - which has thus far been a piscaresque, leader-terminating romp featuring cameos from characters as diverse as Cate Blanchett and most lately, Clive Palmer - lumbered one step closer to its finale on Monday.
Palmer, who is both the potentate and the poster boy of the Palmer United Party, arrived at Parliament fresh from a weekend skiing break (the physics of which are confounding) and straight into a secret meeting with his Puppies - the Palmer United Party senators.
Australian Motoring Enthusiast Party senator Ricky Muir came along for the ride, although these days he takes his in a Comcar.
The meeting was secret, in that it took place behind walls. If those walls happened to be made of glass clothed only in the finest of transparent gauze curtains all the better for aiming press cameras through, then so be it. Palmer is not a man who cares to be unobserved. In fact, his very political existence answers definitively the great philosophical thought experiment about the tree which falls in the forest when there is no one there to see it.
If Palmer talks, tweets, storms out of an interview, or announces his intention to remake Titantic with Bronwyn Bishop in the title role (and given what we now know, no one can definitively rule that out), and no media is there to see it, then he literally ceases to exist.
While it appeared Palmer and his voting bloc were going to allow the carbon tax repeal legislation through after the political coquettishness of last week, that didn't mean the Member for Fairfax would do it quickly. He spoke on the PUP-amended legislation in the lower house, and then called a late afternoon press conference to prolong the agony.
In question time, the government backbench looked decidedly ragged as the frontbench answered opposition inquiries on the price impact of the tax's repeal. Labor backbencher Pat Conroy wanted to know what the cost of a leg of lamb (which Barnaby Joyce famously predicted would blow out $100 under the carbon tax) would be by next week.
Next week? Who can say what will have happened by then?
First, the carbon tax must be euthanased, and only then can the government get onto the business of passing its budget.
And if it is this torturous to legislate the carbon tax repeal, upon which the crossbenchers agree, who knows how they will manage the budget, upon which they don't.
And which parts of it will be sacrificed, lamb-like, before the totem of Clive Palmer.