“This happened a while back. I was sitting at a rock with the code 62g823 outside my house watching my cute, playful koi play in the pond outside my house. On 9/10 days, I have nothing to do, so I just watch them play. Occasionally I throw in a pearl or two (some clams live in there too!) for them to play with. Anyway, I got up and went for a walk in the wooded area outside my house, totally not because I threw my mothers $6,000 dollar lipstick collection, one at a time, into the woods because I was bored. When I was about the length of 2 cereal bowls, a flashlight, and a badminton racquet into the woods, I heard the sound of what seemed to be a tribe of vacuum cleaners dancing around a conveniently placed grid of power sockets, singing an old vacuum-y song about staying plugged in and being better than Roombas. I heard the noise because that was exactly what was going on. This was a truly uninspiring moment, and I didn’t want to study vacuum-ology when I grow up. This was so uninspiring, in fact, that I bought a Roomba. And that’s the real reason why I bought a Roomba.” I told my mother. My mother replied:” Yessss, I completely believe you… However, I really need to call somebody. Could you wait a moment?” My mother forgot to leave the room and called the person in front of me, allowing me to hear her side of the conversation. It went something like this: “Hello, I hear you’re the best therapist in town? Yes. Yes. You see, my son may have a mental illness. Why? He’s been giving rocks specific codes, and might have thrown my $6000 lipstick collection into the woods. Yes. Yes. Oh,
could you fit in a therapy session at around 6:30 p.m., Monday to Friday? Yes. $600 dollars you say? For 10 sessions? Yes. Yes. Goodbye!”
By the way, my story really happened.