Ah, the joys of being a limb in absentia! Ever had a spoon leap from your hand only to dance a jig mid-air? That's my work. I'm your friendly neighborhood phantom limb, and I've been operating in the whimsical, often slapped vein of your most chuckle-worthy dreams.
Did you know? Time flows differently for us disembodied limbs. Sometimes I'm nibbling crumpets with Father Time himself. He's quite the comedian. “You think you're history? Wait till you see my timeline!”, he quips.
I’ve jotted down notes in the margins of clock faces, swapped the east and west winds just last Tuesday, and remember that time you swore you left your keys on the counter? Spoiler: they’re still there. Or they were. Or they might be.
Such is life on the ever-flowing current of time -- it stops only for the red lights, but jokes float freely.