a neuroscience secret no one talks about

There is a homunculus who lives in my brain. He's very skinny and pale. And bald. And although I often refer to the homunculus as a "he," it's really sexless because it's not like he's going to reproduce or something. If it wore a bow on its head, I might call it a "she" instead, but it doesn't. It wears a rather baggy Speedo and galoshes. My brain is full of muck and goo--important to keep the feet dry, you know. My homunculus' favorite songs are "Life is a Highway" and the old Hy-Vee jingle. This is the only explanation I can come up with for why these two songs suddenly pop into my head for no apparent reason. My homunculus owns a very, very tiny red bandana, which he uses to wipe the perspiration from his brow when he's engaged in the difficult work of making my brain function. He packs the bandana into my frontopolar cortex when it's not in use, which is why I have a difficult time adding a column of numbers in my head.

Lately, the homunculus has taken up a new hobby. Somehow, he has found a very, very tiny wine glass, and he wets his slender, bony finger and runs it around the edge. Over and over and over again. This keeps me up at night sometimes.

I'll tell the audiologist about this when I go in for my appointment in January, and she'll probably just call it tinnitus. But I'll know the truth.

Hey, just because it's not a parsimonious explanation doesn't mean it's not true.