Proof

I met with Kathleen my therapist on Friday. Boy, am I steamed! I told her about the woman I met, the one I THOUGHT I was going to marry (see below, New Regimen). I was talking about my new court-ordered running constraints: no running on the lakefront 7am-9am or 5pm-7pm, Mon-Sat; remaining 500 feet from primary dwelling and person at all times; etc. I wasn't even TALKING about the woman, just about these new hurdles God put in my life from which I am somehow supposed to squeeze lemonade. But Kathleen kept coming back to her-why did I think she wanted to get married, do I think it is appropriate to propose marriage before I learn someone's name, etc. I was furious. Kathleen wasn't even listening to me! I very clearly and unmistakably mentioned that I DID know the woman's name because her Driver's License fell out of her shorts pocket and I read it upside down on the asphalt.

The session wasn't wasted though. I mentioned the Driver's License very early on, so now I have MORE proof that Kathleen doesn't really start to listen until ten minutes in.