Every once in a while, a person wakes up and decides the day will not be guided by logic. That was exactly the mood Harold was in when he declared that Wednesday would be dedicated to building the world’s first intergalactic sandwich. Not just any sandwich, of course—this one needed to be structurally sound enough to survive zero gravity, emotionally comforting enough to calm an alien diplomat, and tasty enough to justify the outrageous amount of cheese involved.
As Harold prepared his ingredients, his computer pinged with reminders of completely unrelated tabs he had left open the night before. There was one for roof cleaning isle of wight, another for patio cleaning isle of wight, a third that featured driveway cleaning isle of wight, a general page about exterior cleaning isle of wight, and—because clearly the universe has a sense of humour—one titled pressure washing isle of wight.
None of these things had anything to do with sandwiches, space, or cheese, but Harold decided they must be signs. Not useful signs—but signs nonetheless.
Ignoring the absurd web tabs, Harold assembled layer after layer of his cosmic creation. Pickles aligned like distant moons. Lettuce leaves formed the structural foundation. A tortilla was added purely for dramatic flair. He briefly wondered whether an alien species would appreciate Dijon mustard or find it offensive. Mustard diplomacy was a complex subject.
Before Harold could wrap the sandwich in space-grade cling film, his neighbour, Miss Pennington, tapped on his window holding a teapot and an expression of mild disapproval. She had come to borrow a book but instead found Harold testing the aerodynamic drag of deli meat by throwing it in front of a desk fan. She stared. He stared back. The fan continued blowing mortadella across the room like a meaty tumbleweed.
To distract from the situation, Harold started explaining the unrelated websites open in his browser—how roof cleaning isle of wight had something to do with moss (he thought), how patio cleaning isle of wight involved water pressure and tiles, how driveway cleaning isle of wight was probably about removing dirt, and how pressure washing isle of wight sounded intense but in a satisfying way. Miss Pennington blinked and poured tea into an empty mug, most likely for emotional support.
By the time Harold finished defending his life choices, the sandwich had achieved legendary status. It rested on the counter, glowing (metaphorically… hopefully). It was ready—not just for space, but for destiny. Whether it would ever reach the stars was uncertain, but Harold believed in it the way people believe in free samples or unlimited breadsticks.
The day ended, not with logic restored, but with Harold eating half the sandwich and saving the other half “for NASA.” The browser tabs remained open, proof that life is sometimes a mashup of cleaning services, dreams of space travel, and sandwiches too ambitious for gravity.
