Biking down the road from home to the coffee shop that's my Thursday office. Warm gentle wind, just enough fluffy clouds, everything turning green in the sunshine. You know— that woulda-been-perfect-if-only-I-had-left-my-jacket-behind weather?

So anyway, I'm riding through this, in this. And I realize I'm not using my mirror. The SUVs are blazing past, trucks rumbling by, whatever who cares. I've got my bike lane and my spring breeze and the road should worry about itself.

There's no tires that squeal, no adrenaline rush close call, no mangled pile of This Is Your Bike On Inattentiveness.

I adjust my mirror, lend some conscious attention to whatever's happening on the pavement all around me, arrive and tie my bike to a cheap tree blooming in the grey parking lot. Time to work, or float around the web, or inbox zero, or something.

A decision for any slice of time I pick, and the split-second left/rights I don't pay attention to might have greater effect than the big-plan life courses I could analyze to death.

How should I use this life?

Well…