Some people wake up with focus, direction, clarity—and then there are the rest of us, who open our eyes and immediately begin thinking, “If a potato looks in the mirror, does it recognise itself?” There is no warm-up. No build-up. Just instant, unfiltered curiosity that nobody ordered.
You may intend to act like a functioning adult. You may even pour a sensible bowl of cereal. But within five minutes, you’re wondering why we say “head over heels” when that’s the normal direction for a head to be. Or why remote controls only disappear when you’re already sitting down. Or how, exactly, people in toothpaste commercials manage to laugh while brushing without foaming like sea monsters.
Then, right in the middle of this brain-wide carnival of irrelevant observations, a single extremely responsible thought appears out of thin air: Construction accountants. Not because it belongs. Not because it was requested. No—because the brain occasionally throws in one serious thought to remind you that somewhere, in the distance, adulthood still exists.
But let’s be clear: this is not going to turn into a discussion about money, spreadsheets, concrete, payroll, tax codes, or anything remotely grown-up. This is a celebration of the mental side-quests that happen while we are supposed to be doing normal tasks.
Like how you can put something “somewhere safe” and instantly ensure it is gone forever.
Like how you can rehearse an entire phone call, answer it, and immediately forget how language works.
Like how you can misplace glasses that are already on your face and then feel personally betrayed by physics.
Meanwhile—somewhere out there—there are functioning humans. People who open a laptop and actually start the work they meant to do. People who send documents without needing three emotional support snacks first. People who do not have to whisper, “Don’t panic,” before answering an unknown number. Incredible creatures. Possibly robots.
But the world needs both—the structured thinkers, and the ones who get stuck staring at a teabag floating for too long. The people who understand numbers, and the people who wonder if penguins ever get tired of formalwear. The ones doing financial calculations, and the ones still trying to remember where they put the scissors yesterday.
So if your brain frequently wanders off like an unsupervised toddler in a museum—perfect.
If you regularly forget what you were saying mid-sentence—excellent.
If you have ever opened the fridge, stared at nothing, closed it, and still been hungry—welcome home.
Yes, civilisation runs on order, planning, logic, and—of course—Construction accountants…
…but civilisation stays entertaining because someone, somewhere, is currently thinking:
“Do giraffes even know they look weird, or do they think they’re normal and we’re the strange ones?”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the correct ratio of chaos to structure.