"The Bourbons remember everything and learn nothing." By the way, Napoleon's foreign minster was talking about the French royal line called the Bourbons not the drink.
As I was taking my daily walk this morning, I realized that I know my work neighborhood and it's routines so well that I could help plan a heist if I wanted to. (Yes, I know that's a strange thought to have but you should know that I spent a good part of formative years watching crime dramas.) For instance, I know exactly what time the security guards at Pike Place Market take their smoke break. Now, if only I could think of something worth stealing there. I do like fish so maybe I should start there; but then again, I don't like dirty smelly things so maybe I shouldn't. It doesn't seem very smart to me to let your security guards take a break everyday at the same place at the same time.
The security guards aren't the only ones I observe on a daily basis. I've been amazed lately at how little variation there is in everybody's routine and I am no exception. If I don't buy a banana at the store downstairs every day at 5:45AM I get questioned the next time I'm in there about my health and safety. I have the construction workers, the shop-owners, the corporate lackeys with their laptop cases, the hookers, and the cops all figured out. The only people I haven't figured out yet are the homeless but I see the same ones all the time at the same places so I know there must be some kind of pattern to their migratory habits. I will keep trying to discern what is and report back when I know. Why do I pay so much attention to the little mundane details of life? I have no idea. I hate it when authors spend pages describing settings and I really don't do it all that much in my own fiction, but it sure is fun to do in my head.
I have noticed one person whose routine seems to be changing. My girlfriend is opening up the cafe she works at later and later. You may think I'm using the word girlfriend too loosely since we've never spoken or even made eye contact. Let me just say that in my experience I've never found that things like talking and acknowledging each other's existence makes things better. In fact, they tend to ruin the magic. I think her tardiness can be blamed on the guy who is now taking her to work in his pick-up everyday. I swear I'm not paranoid but I am beginning to get the vague impression that I am slowly being replaced. So that's why I don't feel bad about putting the homing device on his car this morning.
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Can I just say that every single time I read a blog I have to curse the moron who decided that they should be arranged in backwards chronological order. I really hate when someone spoils a story by telling the ending and that is how I feel every time I have to wade through the newer posts to get to the older ones. I could really just strangle someone.
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