Schrodinger Can Kiss My Ass

As a geek, I always found the whole Schrodinger's Cat thing a properly amusing occasional punch line, and for a time even contemplated buying the t-shirt.

I never imagined I'd wide awake in the wee hours, holding the handle to a bathroom door I was afraid to open because my obsessive nature couldn't stop pondering the sick mind of a freaking Austrian physicist.

Or that I'd feel guilty for being on the wrong side of the door, no matter which side it was.

I certainly never imagined this scenario would play out over and over again at 12:30. And at 1. And 3. And 4 and 4:40 and 5. And 6 and 7.

I imagine he'd be interested to learn that it does appear possible to exist on a horrible, simultaneous gradient of alive yet dead.

I've also never been less pleased to have a hypothesis definitively proven. In this case, the simple solution to remove the qualifier 'might be' from 'might be lymphoma.' And I never thought I'd be disappointed if you told me I never again have to worry about having a 4 am hairball unceremoniously horked on my pillow.

Goddamn am I going to miss that sweet, snuggly, absurdly irritable, slightly brain-damaged three-legged cat.