There is a bit of mystery that shrouds everything we touch, mystery in socks and waffle house signs. There are many reasons to feel this; the awareness that so much of our ordinary day is surrounded in other's random decisions, the thought that we ourselves could merely be the product of a right thought at a right time. It is either the mystery of randomness or a deeper mystery, the mystery of providence. Either way we are befuddled in ideas too big for our bodies, encircled by paradoxes and illogical conclusions that are the most logical conclusion we can make, tainted by the supernatural in every seemingly slight event and entity.