raybear | I'm in no shape for driving.

I've discovered a new problem with being a near-daily journaler which is I've lost the gift of conversational hindsight. By that I mean, when asked what I've been up to, I think in 24 hour bites and summarize. Last night at a gallery someone asked how I'd been for the past month, and I could only think of anecdote from earlier in the day, possibly the day before. My routine has become journal out my day and evening, forget it, the next day record again, forget it. Lather rinse repeat.

Granted, once my brain warms up and I get talking I can usually sketch out an assessment of my life in the past week, month, year, decade. But it takes some time, usually more than the patience of a partygoer in a casual social setting.

Having said that, I don't have time or really an inclination for a weekend recap. I bought a new bike. I lifted boxes. I ate in restaurants and laughed with friends and saw some T&A at an art opening that wasn't part of the exhibit. I thought about kisses I've wanted to give and kisses I did give. And I've put off organizing the apartment and my schedule for the week. In the meantime, I have to do some revisions of twenty pages of a novel draft I haven't looked at in over a year. Hopefully I won't pull any muscles in all my cringing.