I shouldn't boast but the scope of my childhood school anxiety was legendary. Guidance counselors in three counties used my fear as a clinical yardstick in assessing other students, a handy Terror Absolute Zero that could never be matched but only approached asymptotically. I might have triggered therapeutic nihilism in the hearts of some teachers and other foolish professionals. As the summer ended I was often found curled up in a ball or hiding in the backyard. The saving moment of the first day of school was when I was given my copy of the semester's lunch menu, in calendar form. These menus took me out of myself and made me think instead about the eternal timeline of lunches. For some reason I was fascinated and appalled by the idea that distant lunches could be so coolly theorized and boldly announced. Who sat down in August and audaciously decided that lunch on a certain Tuesday in November would be salisbury steak? Just because Friday is always pizza day now how could they know that would remain true? A lot can happen. Hubris of this nature invited calamity. What if armageddon occurred before all the planned lunches took place? In time I began to suspect that these mimeographed menus had nothing to do with me or anyone else, but instead were a way for tater tots to make a claim on the future. The Will to Tot transcended mere human concerns. When I realized that tater tots had a much better idea of their future than I had of mine I was finally able to relax a little. An appreciation for the fundamental absurdity of existence is helpful to children of all ages.