It feels really good to walk in to the local Japanese restaurant for lunch, and even though I’m Joe-Random-white-guy, the people working there know me well enough to not offer a fork anymore! The restaurant in question is one of those hole in the wall places that assumes anyone not of Asian descent needs a fork and gets to sit in the back. I feel honored to be considered one of the non-fork-users.
I was sitting at work this afternoon, and I know that back then I had several other points to make, but I really cannot remember a single one anymore…. oh, well.
Addendum: I just had two odd realizations. One: I am not setting off any of the motion sensitive lights between my front door and the street. There are three of ’em, and I seem to be invisible to all. Two: When I scoop coffee beans into the coffee maker, it takes eight scoops. I always end up counting them aloud. I never really thought of why I do this, but tonight I realized that if I do not, I will certainly forget which number I am on. Is this some sort of short-term anterograde amnesia, like in Memento?