ME: (Tries to work)
MY BRAIN: I’m studying to be a particleboardcosmologist.
ME: Nice. And that is?
MY BRAIN: It’s someone who studies the constellations in imperfect drop ceilings.
MY BRAIN: Turn off the lights and let’s study the skies.
ME: You mean the pinpoints shining through the drop panels?
MY BRAIN: Philistine. Oh look, there is Swingline, the stapler constellation. And that square shape over
there? Oweya, the Snack Fund God.
ME: And that water stain?
MY BRAIN: Unknown nebula.
ME: What’s the point in particleboardcosmology? Don’t tell me people navigate by drop ceiling constellations.
MY BRAIN: Why not? Walk toward the Black Hole of the Flung Pencil, turn left at the Sign of the Leaking Insulation, and go forward fifty feet. Where are you?
ME: … in front of the bathroom.
MY BRAIN: Take THAT, John Harrison.