I write this lying in bed, wondering who stole my day. Inspiration struck me at strange times today, and because of that, this is the first opportunity I’ve had to write. That’s not completely honest: I wrote a few bad paragraphs in an aborted story this afternoon; and instead of writing when I returned home (with plenty of opportunities), I spent the evening watching 28 Up, the fourth segment in what must have been the first reality series on television. The series explored the statement: “Give me a child at seven, and I’ll give you the man.” It’s a rather brilliant concept (brilliant in the English sense of the word).

The producers chose thirteen English children of diverse backgrounds, and filmed their stories and thoughts every seven years, starting when they were seven. I finished the fourth film, the aptly named 28 Up. The premise of the documentary has held up rather well. The thirteen followed the path laid out by their economic class and intelligence. It’s interesting how much is decided when you are so young, and how hard it is to break away from where you grow up. In many ways it reminded me of . . . the book’s name escapes me, but it’s about genetically forcing people into groups: alphas, betas, gammas. My only complaint with the documentary is that it grows repetitive when watching it chronologically. The producers used clips from the earlier episodes to show progressions, which if you’ve seen the earlier episodes becomes rather repetitive. As an elementary sociological experiment, however, it provides keen insights.

(Do you see why I can’t write essays? Instead of explaining the keen insights or explaining things beyond the basic plot points, my head grows heavy and I throw clichéd and trite statements onto the page. One of these days, I’m going to attempt to apply original thought to some of these thoughts. Though I’m afraid if I do, the world as we know it might end.)

This week somehow sprinted past me when I wasn’t looking. It wasn’t until I brushed my teeth this morning that I realized today was Thursday. When I brush my teeth, I usually walk over to the full-length window in my study outside my bedroom (which is outside my bathroom). The window provides a view of the lake, the park, and on clear, cold days, the mountains. As I mindlessly brushed my teeth and gazed over the rainy lake, I saw that my neighbors across the street had put his garbage can out for pickup. I thought this weird, since the garbage trucks only pickup on Thursdays, and today clearly wasn’t a Thursday, it was more like a Tuesday or Wednesday. I figured that my neighbor was probably out of town for the rest of the week and wanted to ensure his garbage was removed. As I brushed the lower left quadrant of my mouth, I looked closer and saw that other neighbors had put out their garbage. At this point I grew suspicious. I decided to check my cell phone for the day. I figured once I ruled that out, I could consider my budding conspiracy theory based on my neighbor’s obvious jealousy of the Castle.

My cell phone put to rest any conspiracy theories, and I began hustling to get ready before the garbage trucks passed my house without taking away my overstuffed bag of garbage, which included two weeks of sucked-up ants (I forgot to empty the vacuum last week). There’s a lesson in here somewhere. I’ll let you know when I figure it out. And don’t you worry: I beat the garbage truck, and my house is now garbage-free. That is, except for the boxes and bags scattered in my second bedroom and storage room. The pile has been growing since I moved in, and one of these days a hauler will haul it all away. With my sister and mother visiting soon, one of those days will have to be soon, or they’re going to be mighty uncomfortable.

When at work, I always try to buy my mocha before the Starbucks-brand coffee stand in the cafeteria closes. As I tried to juggle my schedule and meetings to fit in a visit to the stand, I remembered that I had decided today would be a caffeine-free day. When I woke this morning, after the garbage scare, I realized that I’ve had yummy caffeine almost every day this past week. In a test of my will, I made the satisfying decision to forgo my mocha and, more sadly, whipped cream. I am happy to report that today was a caffeine-free day. And I appear no worse for the . . . I bet you were thinking I was going to say wear. Well, you’re wrong. I like to surprise the reader, so, today, I appear no worse for the, oh hell, wear.