The Clairvoyant Zoopraxiscope

Ah, Lordy. I was supposed to give my beloved (stranded in the outback, without an alarm clock) a wake-up call this morning, and I was so distracted by a reference to myself I found by accident that I forgot completely, only to be called by the already awakened aforementioned beloved with a more-than-faint note of dismay, only to greet the note of dismay with a symphony of (probably annoying) nonchalance, whose starting chord was, "I mean, it was nothing urgent, was it?" I'm incorrigible, but my awareness of my incorrigibility, and my accompanying reluctance to do anything to rectify same, has magnified into narcissism. But at least I notice it. Of course the current activity does a lot to intensify things, doesn't it? To even write a word is to publish a small memoir of one's self.

But all the same, I should have called. It wasn't that big a reference.