Perhaps it’s because he studies microscopic bits of minerals all day. Monday through Friday you can find him hunched over his multi-million-dollar machine which took years of grant writing to acquire. He peers into the infinite. Sighs. Today he’s combating the urge to eat potato chips as he focuses his microscope. Once the noon bell sounds, he decides to hell with it. He’ll skip the righteous salad. The swamp extract some call green tea. At the vending machine, while waiting for the bag of chips to wind its way down to the collector tray, he spies two undergrads knocking on his office door. He assumes they’ve come to hit him up for an internship or job recommendation. He ducks out of sight. We’re all creatures of habit he decides, shaped by invisible forces we can’t possibly control. Take for instance the now empty bag of chips and the prospect of the endless afternoon.