The Chaos Theory
The chaos begins anew
Not tomorrow, not later, not next week. Right now. Buckle up. When I say the chaos begins anew, it always does. It starts fresh and clean, like the universe reset itself just to mess with you. The first domino tips over, your coffee goes flying, and suddenly you’re knee-deep. Not in actual coffee—that’s just the metaphor—but in a mess you never signed up for, never wanted, and sure as hell didn’t ask for. Yet here you are. In it. Again.
So grab a chair. Plug in that phone before the battery dies, because if it goes dark mid-story, chaos wins. And it loves to win. The Wi-Fi cuts out, the kids scream, the dogs bark, and politicians act like circus clowns on TV. It’s just another day. Just another entry in the Chaos Theory.
Chaos never knocks. It doesn’t ask permission. It just kicks the damn door in, steals your clean shirt, and laughs while you scramble for another. One minute I’m writing a post, the next I’m drafted into helping my wife pick out a new cell phone. If it were my choice, the decision would’ve been made hours ago. But it’s not my circus, not my monkey. My job is to lay out the evidence, compare the shiny features, and then step back. Your choice. Own it.
This morning, before I even had a sip of coffee, chaos was already riding shotgun out the door. Like the uninvited Thanksgiving guest, it tagged along whether I wanted it to or not. Sigh. And just like that, my train of thought derailed. Poof. Gone. Vaporized. Thanks for playing.
And so, ladies and gentlemen, here we are again. Another installment of the Chaos Theory, interrupted by chaos itself. It stomped in, kicked off its boots, and said, Not today. That idea you were chasing? Forget it. That clever story you were about to tell? Gone.
So what now? Do I wrap it up, or leave it dangling like an unfinished sentence? Well, since I can’t even remember where I was headed with my coffee cup in hand this morning—thanks to cats meowing, radios squawking, and chaos running the show—I’ll just call it what it is. Another day, another derailment.
Because that’s what the Chaos Theory is: fresh every morning, like dew on the grass and fog on the windshield. It’s irritating, relentless, impossible to control. And yet—there it is.
The Chaos Theory — because life never sticks to the script.
— QBall45
