The thirty-percent solution

My computer screen told me "You're thirty percent there," and I thought: Now you're diagnosing my mental state? 

A colleague told a room full of academics, "We've been given an IKEA box with a cinnamon roll instead of an Allen wrench," and the scary thing is, we all knew what he meant.

A person whose clothes reeked of weed walked up to me and I immediately started sneezing. "You must be allergic to my essential oils," he said. That's one possibility.

An administrator urged a bunch of us to "take ownership of our spaces," but how will the seventy percent of me that isn't even here take ownership of anything? 

 Three weeks before classes start, thirty percent is about as good as it gets, especially when I'm sneezing all over this cinnamon roll.