Dear Science,

I don't pretend to understand you.  I mean, we're acquainted, but not the best of friends.  You might not realize this, but I've been enamored with you since 2nd grade when we planted beans and made rock candy.  We grew apart for a while, and then my love for you was rekindled when I was 13 and stayed true until, well, you got kinda math-y on me.  If only I could  have discovered all your hidden beauty and mystery without such bothers as "accurate measurement" and "statistical significance" and "physics."  Sigh.

Sweet!

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.

The thing is, Science, I've still got a thing for you.  I know, I know.  I've been away too long, it will never work, we're too different now.  I don't expect us to pick up where we left off all those years ago.  We've both moved on.  What I really need now is for you to be more open and communicative with those who love you and who have been so dedicated to you.  I'm sure you've heard this before; folks come crawling back to you when they're looking for answers and realize that you're the key to solving their troubles.  Maybe I am being selfish.  But won't you please at least consider my requests?  Remember, we don't have to get back together for me to be happy.  I don't want to make you feel awkward, trying to get me caught up on all I've missed, and we both know that we'd have to waste lots of time reviewing things you had already shown me back when I was young and smart and had no children of my own to replace my deep, introspective contemplation of important, relevant things with thoughts of chicken nuggets, goldfish crackers, and Dora's explorations vs. Blue's clues.

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.

Request #2- A cure for food allergies.  Not Lactaid.  That stuff tastes like drywall painted with toothpaste and doesn't even help relieve pain.  Not an epi-pen to save the life of the kid who accidentally ingested a peanut.  Not slightly-less-disgusting-than-they-used-to-be gluten-free products.  Food allergies are so unfair, and we need a cure.

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.  

Come on, Science.  We all know that you hold the key to unlocking all the mysteries of digestion, indigestion, and allergic reactions in the palm of your mysterious hand.  Won't you please show it to us?

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 wethey've discovered a lot about you already, Science, and don't think me ungrateful.  Louis CK says in that viral video that I can't seem to find, "Everything's amazing and nobody's happy."  Everything is amazing, but I am happy, even though you and I have lost touch.  It's just...I think it's about time for a new Science Revolution (wait a sec- a "new revolution"- that's poorly worded, eh?  Oh, well.  Probably nobody will care, unless you let your sister-in-law, English, read this letter).

(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!)

Sincerely,

Friendly in Florida

p.s.
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!