Someone told me that I use the word lovely too much. Which is great because at least they don’t know that fuck is my favorite word. They would if they heard me outside of work. Outside of pretending to not be messy. But messy can be interesting. Sometimes messy is eating corn flakes in bed watching Schitts Creek. Sometimes messy is weeping at the drop of the hat and sometimes it’s not tearing up at all. Sometimes messy is just a room.

All of us are constantly yearning to be less messy. I croon “There must be some method to the madness. Method to the madness,” and hum along with The Wombats as I try to find patterns in the chaos. It’s unfortunate that I find myself moving closer to messes. It appears that the human mind also tends towards higher entropy. And yet, I am convinced that just the way the Boltzmann brain is sure to come into existence, it is inevitable that order will come into this mess. That the random fluctuations that cause atoms to come together to create a fully formed brain will also help clean up this mess. I am also hopeful that it’ll happen just as spontaneously but take way less time than Boltzmann’s “any time but not infinite amount of time” timeline to bring order into chaos. 

Perhaps, it’s better to accept messy. Messy doesn’t mean unhygienic, it’s just not very proper. Then again, I’m not the Queen of England and so a little impropriety is acceptable. Isn’t it? Maybe what Boltzmann was trying to tell us was the order can only be born from chaos. That we are here today but our atoms were just floating around in primordial soup yesterday. Until the patterns finally emerge, I’ll give up on finding answers that don’t really exist. I can’t be bothered looking for unicorns in horse stables. And so I whisper the second half of the chorus, “Still, I don’t wanna know. Just one last smile and then I’ll go.”