Coming home on the (admittedly packed) train on Friday, some old twit thought a very clever place to rest his hand, and therefore body-weight, would be the top lip of my laptop screen. Y'all get no guesses as to what happened. In my normal mild-mannered (read "desire to tell people when they're being stupid suppressed") state, I noted that it perhaps wasn't the smartest place to lean, and very calmly (I thought) shared a smile with the girl sitting across from me as I rebooted the laptop. It was only two hours later, when the girl stood up, that I realised she looked remarkably like a good friend of mine in primary school. Probably not the same girl, but still.
And the other day, reading a snippet of poetry, I discovered a title for one of the novels waiting in line to be written. Can you believe it? A novel, not yet written, already with a title! Who am I, and what have I done with myself?