I know that our relationship was not exclusive, and you probably didn't even notice when I abandoned you after college. I had been distancing myself from you ever since that Biology 101 class during my Freshman year, when we weren't allowed to dissect anything, grow anything, or DO anything except take the end-of-chapter quizzes and watch movies (stupid, lazy, no-lesson-plans professor, tore us apart!). Bo-ring.
|My son learned more while feeding the ducks and turtles at the pond than I learned that entire semester.|
Request #1- A cure for migraine headaches. I realize there are awful, deadly diseases, afflictions more painful, and physical problems which are much, much harder to deal with than migraines. Remember how I mentioned being selfish a minute ago? Yes, this is a selfish request. Let me modify it, slightly. If I could just understand the migraines- the causes, symptoms, effective treatments, how long I can be suffering from one before everyone calls me a sissybaby behind my back, whether there is any real prevention method- that would be fantastic. To make it easier on you, Science, I will gladly volunteer to have your Ists to study my brain, ask me questions, be fascinated by the auras that show up like clockwork before the pain sets in, and give me experimental drugs.
|These poor, sweet children have to whisper when their Mom has a migraine, as their normal speaking voices bring tears of pain to her eyes.|
|Oreo cookie dunked in cold, creamy milk? No. Ice cream cone? Nope. Cranberry chutney stuffed brie cheese with fruit and crackers? Negative. Alfredo sauce? Not unless it's made from cauliflower and soy milk. Grilled cheese sandwich? Mac-n-cheese? Mashed potatoes? Brown butter tortellini? Pizza???? Sorry, Baby. You can't have any of those things.|
Request #3- A self-cleaning floor. Yeah, so I'm back to making selfish requests. But before you shrug me off, think about this: EVERYONE (and I don't think that's an exaggeration!) would like a floor that cleaned itself. I'm not talking about a Roomba or whatever that creepy thing is that runs into walls all on its own. I'm talking Jetsons-style. Okay, so I think Rosie actually cleaned their floors, but I just mean their style. I want to press a button on the wall or speak a few words aloud and have my floor obey immediately. You know how there are little gutter bumpers that come up in the lane when it's a kid's turn to bowl? I imagine that those kind of things would pop up from under the floor to barricade the area that was being cleaned. The vacuum suction would come from underneath, as would the water and soap for the mopping. Finally, the floor would be dried quickly so that it could be walked on almost without interruption. (I think you've already let us figure out the dryers, actually. Those automatic hand dryers in park bathrooms are pretty stinkin' powerful. That had to be your doing, Sci [Can I call you Sci? No? You're afraid of being mistaken for a much-too-well-known, can't-believe-anyone-listens to this, so-called rapper? Gotcha.]. Thanks!) The best part? Even if the floor had just been cleaned when someone spilled their soy milk or tracked mud in or dropped cooked couscous, with the simple press of a button and zero complaining, it could be clean again within minutes!
It's true that
(Oops. I think it's against the rules to end a paragraph with a set of parentheses, too? Please don't show this letter to English! Or to Grammar, for that matter!)
Friendly in Florida
Here's a bit of advice that I need to remember more than you do, Science: Be smart. Think. Create. Experiment. Your ideas might just bring fame and fortune to yourself and some Ists!
p.p.s. (tee hee! p p!)
Yes, I know how to spell 'scientists'. I realize there's a 't' before the 'ists'. Lemme alone, I can call 'em 'ists' if I want to!