Consider this hearty, filling bit of life insight from the Cubicle Dweller:

In Mostly Harmless, Douglas Adams wrote, "There is an art to the business of making sandwiches which it is given to few ever to find the time to explore in depth."

When I was a student, I must have had far too much time on my hands, because if there is only one thing that I am truly good at, it is making sandwiches. When I make a sandwich, it's a perfect creation. Some people just slap a few things between a couple of slices of white bread and stuff it into their mouths. I suppose for them it gets the job done -- it puts matter in their bellies. But there's so much more to the experience. It's an experience that begins with sandwich architecture, which I think Douglas Adams understood:

There was also the geometry of the slice to be refined: the precise relationships between the width and height of the slice and also its thickness which would give the proper sense of bulk and weight to the finished sandwich: here again, lightness was a virtue, but so too were firmness, generosity and that promise of succulence and savour that is the hallmark of a truly intense sandwich experience.

Such a deep understanding of the delicate nuances of sandwich presentation and form is rare.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make myself a sandwich for breakfast.

Now, let me say first that I can truly respect an individual who espouses such a profound, intimate a connection with something so easily overlooked, so easily misunderstood, as a sandwich. To those of you who would say that this passion is misdirected, I say only that even in a simple, unassuming sandwich, one may find the roots of meaning, the answers to the great questions, a sort of thinly-sliced Nirvana whose fundaments are those of all things.

That being said, it is just a sandwich...