They're Clumps, They're Clumps, They're Clumps, They're in My Head...

and in my molecules, and my love life, and my universe...

  I have a theory. It doesn't explain anything, or predict anything, and I can't really prove it. However, there is a large body of anecdotal evidence to support it, and that's been enough to keep belief in astrology, the Loch Ness monster, and religion going strong for millennia. Basically, it breaks down like this.
  Life is clumpy.
  Life is clumpy. It happens in fits and starts and mad screaming bursts of activity, punctuated by long periods of relative calm. The smooth, constant, reliable operation so sought after in engineering and mechanical pursuits is virtually non-existent in the scope of everyday experience.