Tick, tock, tick. The clock's dance is as erratic as my inner thoughts:
"Do fish ever get thirsty? Perhaps they sip on the ocean like we do coffee."
If quantum mechanics has taught us anything, it's that I should probably stop thinking about how cereal gets soggy.
In my dreams, I am a hero fighting the sogginess with the might of a thousand crunchy morsels.
The clock says it's half past imagination o'clock, where nothing makes sense and everything is a conundrum wrapped in a puzzle.
"Why are pants so hard to fold when they fold themselves in the wash?"