Bottom-Brainer

What's going on in there?  Too much. The other night, at the nice Italian place where we celebrated my dad's birthday, I got a sign from up above.  Actually, it was from over my left shoulder. Out of nowhere, a bottle top whizzed by my earlobe, like a spiky mini-missile of doom, and landed right in front of me.  I couldn't help but wonder what this random, low-flying bottle top symbolized: The loneliness of the human condition? The arbitrary nature of the universe?  One minute you're soaring through the air, care-free, and the next, you're nosediving. Splat. Oh, the cruelty of it all.  What's that? Maybe I'm reading too much into this non-consequential occurrence? Could be. I wouldn't put it past me.  I do tend to over-think. At least, I'm not alone.  Far from it.

According to a new book, "Top Brain, Bottom Brain:  Surprising Insights Into How You Think," I'm a bottom-brainer, a "perceiver."  People like me sit on our bottoms and try to make sense of what we perceive (like a bottle top whizzing by). Surely, there's a better use of my time.  But nothing comes to mind. Forget right brain, left brain.  Say it loud, say it proud. I'm a bottom-brainer, always trying to get to, what else, the bottom of things. This explains so much about me.  I refer you to the bottle top in question. I needed to get to the source of this mystery, tout suite.  So, I turned my head and discovered from whence the wayward bottle top came -- the bar directly behind me. Whereupon I scolded the reckless Pelligrino-opener. I went all maternal on his ass. "Hey bartender, pay attention. You could've taken out an eye. You're lucky you're dealing with a bottom-brainer, and not a litigious, top-brainer."  I'm still waiting for a hand-written thank you note.

Look where you're going, bottle top!