Talking to yourself so others can hear.

I've already forgotten yesterday. How is that possible? It was 24 solid hours of non-stop action of some variety. I vaguely remember talking to people, kissing my wife, feeling the urge to harm my neighbor's nutso dog (we're dog-sitting), and feeling confused and ambivalent about the United Postal Service. Filling in the blanks is hard. Where did it go? Maybe the fact that yesterday barely happened is because most of my day was filled by a one-way conversation(?) at Mark Edmundson. Perhaps talking to yourself about someone not present (and whom you've never met) with the whole world as a nonattentive audience is so bereft of importance that it simply never happens.

Some of it is coming back. Ah yes, I did record-time home on my bicycle. Absolutely sailing, blazing past the roadies in their weirdly colored, skin-tight uniforms and fancy bikes. The hybrid and an old bathing suit proved to be just as competitive. All the more so since no one knew we were racing, a very sneaky move on my part. It was a beautiful ride home next to the river, and it is somewhat of a thrill to come out on River Street with only other bike commuters before heading up the Capitol Crescent, leaving the cars, exhaust, horns, and most of the smog behind. The bike is a superior form of commute. There is no doubt about it.

Today's breakdown. More work. New glasses that will have to go back (not quite right). Immigration cases. Progress on the hip-openers, and serious reflection on what I'd have to give up to be a religious leader. Heteroskedasticity and the ratio of charisma to cost for my practice group as a predictive variable in rainmaking.

Today's rule: find a way to employ clicker training into my relationships at work.