There are things in our days we do so often that they can be done without us. Our tongues remember the talk, fingers remember the formulas, our feet the way home. We'd be here now, but instead we're miles away, and everything seems to be working fine this way- how else would it have become routine? But it is by the details that we sink or succeed, by the details that we find meaning in this drudgery, or at least a good story for the bar. You can't sleepwalk through life, because sooner or later something will shake you awake, and it will hurt.
