You ever feel like you're performing the wrong diagnostic? Like, you're looking at all the data points — the tenure track, the nice suburban house, the kids who *probably* won't need braces — and it all indicates success, but your internal instrument panel is just… blank? Or worse, flashing "MALFUNCTION." I'm grading these intro biology papers, explaining mitosis for the 800th time, and all I can think about is the satisfying THWACK of a hammer hitting a nail, the smell of sawdust, the way my dad’s hands always smelled like pine and sweat. It’s like a phantom limb, this craving for something so physically tangible when my actual hands are tracing red lines on a diagram of a paramecium. It’s IRRATIONAL, I know. But sometimes you just… wonder if you missed the call, you know? Like, the *actual* call.