Theory of Evolution

So, I've got this theory that I use to justify my stupidity: The human brain hasn't evolved enough to house both creativity, and sensibility. I'm absent-minded, not by choice, but by virtue of the fact that I'm a creative type.

I'm sure someone else invented this theory millenia ago. I can see it now, a very creative caveman goes to the forest to hunt mammoth, because his wife needs a new fur coat, and the offspring are sick of eating bugs and moss. But he comes across a pretty cave, gets sidetracked, goes inside, and paints a crayola masterpiece on the wall. Something grandiose. Something real. Something that will stand the test of time: Stick figures holding smaller pointy sticks, standing in front of a stick beast that will become his children's dinner, and his wife's evening gown. He stands back, looks at it, is very excited to show it off to his friends, who will no doubt think it's a work of fine art as well. But when he steps out of his cave he can't remember the way he came. He gets lost. He gets stepped on by a mammoth. He dies.

This makes me feel just fine. The fact that I've locked the keys in my car twice in one week seems to make so much sense now. Shoot, its not my fault. I'm just waiting to evolve.