Sometimes the fear of retracing is not because you can't stay within the lines but more like your huffing and puffing are drawing altogether new conclusions about the thing you are retracing. Some of us have difficulty capturing the past week into words, not because of porous memories but because the details are so vapid for wordsmithing. How can you describe drinking coffee, watering lantanas, gathering input, attaching concepts to conclusions, ravishing comfort food then devouring crafted beverages, cannibalizing pixels to fashion a rendering, laundering body parts for cohabitation, cohabiting, dreamscaping, rinse, repeat and sanctify - how do we make this deliciously enticing to read and digest? Not without some gift of exemplifying, the solemnity of seduction and the cryin'-out-loud persuasion of promise delivered. Sorkin called it "do you want to fish or fuck around? I'd lean more towards this ain't no foolin' around. A hundred and ten and the wait for analysis begs for understanding and patience. Vanna, Vanna can I at least buy one of the two?