I find that there are days during which I seem to disrupt the force of gravity in my immediate vicinity. Although I could afford to lose a few pounds, I don’t believe that I approach the amount of mass to exert such force.
Nevertheless, at times I open the closet or pantry door and things spontaneously begin to fall. Cans and boxes of food drop. Tools jump off my workbench. Papers fly off my desk. I was beginning to get some type of deep emotional complex with the associated scars.
However, I am an avid reader.
Lately, I’ve been reading how astronomers and physicists have been making all kinds of exciting discoveries about black holes.
Then it hit me.
I must be generating my own singularity – my very own, personal black hole.
It explains a lot.
The only problem is that now I’ve discovered this, everyone is going to want their own black holes.
Then I won’t be special any more.
It’s easier to pick things up off the floor and put them back on the shelf when you believe it’s because you’re special.
Oh, well.
