This weekend, after engaging in a flurry of spring cleaning, I brainstormed strategies for dealing with the usual "tragedy of the commons" that results when people share a sink. Eventually I came up with one that even an unapologetically amoral Korean and a paranoid atheist could handle: each of us has a set day, and otherwise you have to do a load every time you use the stove or oven.

Needless to say, we needed this system six months ago, nine months ago. See: Dan, recently-evolved fear of confrontation (pg. 231-235, 314).

Seriously though, I used to be so wonderfully blunt; I miss that. Part of it is also all these rules of decorum I'm going by.

I worry sometimes that Our Bold Hero is defined too much by rules that no else cares about (could care about). And not enough by, say, the rules that he doesn't care about. Spinning in my chair at work notwithstanding.

Speaking of work, I've also been waking up on time, having finally moved the clock across the room so that the nefarious Morning Dan can't turn the alarm off and oversleep. It still feels weird to be up at that time of day, though.

For one thing, I'm rarely hungry, but I know I have to eat breakfast. I tried a PB&J sandwich today, and discovered that they only taste good if you're actually hungry. This one was like ashes; I can't believe I ate so many of them back in Chicago. Disgusting.