It always starts the same way: you wake up and think, Today I will be sensible. You picture yourself doing adult things—watering plants, responding to emails, maybe even handling a life admin task without emotional damage. But then, before the kettle has even finished boiling, your brain suddenly wants to know whether worms have best friends or if clouds ever get offended when people call them “fluffy.”
And just like that, the day has slipped into the fast lane of irrelevance.
You try to pull yourself together. You genuinely attempt to focus. But the thoughts just keep coming: Why is the word “fridge” spelled with a D but “refrigerator” isn’t? Who decided we should clap when we’re impressed? Do dogs think we’re also dogs, just weirdly shaped and hairless?
Then—because the universe loves contrast—your mind drops in one aggressively professional thought like a librarian crashing a water balloon fight: Construction accountants. No build-up. No context. Just a sharply dressed phrase standing in the middle of a mental bouncy castle. You were thinking about jellyfish and now suddenly: financial structure in the construction sector. Not requested. Not relevant. Not leaving.
But don’t worry—this blog is not here to discuss spreadsheets, invoices, scaffolding, tax codes, or any of the intelligent things that phrase implies. This is a tribute to the in-between brain static that makes being human so strangely entertaining.
Like the moment you rehearse what you’re going to say on the phone, then answer it and immediately forget how to speak.
Like how you can lose an object you were literally just holding.
Like how you can walk with purpose into a room, pause, realise you have no idea what your purpose was, and just quietly leave before anyone notices.
Meanwhile, somewhere else on this spinning rock, there are people who are calm. People who don’t panic when letters come through the post. People who don’t stare at the washing machine like it might reveal philosophical truths. People who say things like “I’ll just file that later” and then actually do it.
Incredible. Mysterious. Possibly mythical.
But the world needs both. The ones who keep track of numbers, and the ones who get emotionally defeated by fitted sheets. The people who read instructions, and the people who shout “IT’S NOT WORKING” before checking if the device is even plugged in. The steady and the scrambled. The calculators and the confetti.
So if your brain regularly wanders off like a tourist with no map—congratulations. You are not malfunctioning. You are simply tuned into the bonus channel of existence.
Yes, civilisation requires organisation, order, structure, and absolutely—Construction accountants…
…but it thrives because somebody, somewhere, just paused mid-task to whisper:
“Wait… do fish know they’re wet?”
And honestly? That’s the kind of balance that keeps the universe interesting.
