I Ate Pie

I like to think I'm organized, at least insofar as my writing is concerned. I have a notebook containing lists of things to edit or ideas for future novels, file folders with maps and miscellaneous scraps of paper, and miscellaneous scraps of paper/sticky note pads lying about everywhere in case I ever have an idea when I don't have access to my notebook. Most notably by my bed, because my brain thinks it's hilarious to give me the best ideas right before I'm about to sleep. Of course, this means I have to turn my light on, write something quickly so I don't wake up too much, then turn it off and try to get back to that almost-sleep state.
Now, normally this isn't too much of a problem. If I have a good idea, then just a few key words will trigger the memory in my mind the next morning and I can develop it fully while I have the cognitive resources to do so. However, there are occasions when I won't have any clue what my brilliant idea was, and I have to scrap the idea.
Today, I came across one such scrap of paper. I have no idea what it means, nor what my plan was when I wrote it. There is no context around it, nothing to give me a clue what my half-sleeping mind was thinking of. Possibly a dream? I have no clue. The paper read:

"I ate pie," he said, as if that explained everything.

Of course, it explains absolutely nothing. It doesn't even make sense when I pair it with all of my other ideas about future books or edits to make to my book. In this case, my idea came to me as a phrase I could put in my story (a frequent occurrence, but usually I know where to put them the next day). But pie has never entered into my story, nor is there a character who says irrelevant things.

Sometimes, I amaze even myself with my oddities.