Let me go, why don't you?

A wine glass perches at the edge of the table, just to the left of my left hand as I type this entry. No, I'm not drinking at 11:30; my almost-empty cup from my second latte of the morning is on my right. The wine glass is upside-down, fresh from the dishwasher, ready to be shelved with the others. And there's a certain suspense, just seeing the glass at the edge of the table. I am enough of a spaz to knock it down with a sudden gesture, but on the other hand because I am thinking about it, the wine glass is firmly planted in my awareness, as if it were something more fixed than it truly is. Will she knock it over, or won't she?

I'm in that state where my thoughts never stray far from my project. It's annoying to those around me, I know; I am muttering to myself about people who aren't even there. Running little dialogues that I accidentally start saying out loud -- it's embarrassing sometimes! But this kind of focus and its unforeseen side effect of not being able to talk about much else also seems necessary to keep moving forward.