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I was walking down Robson Street yesterday thinking three different, and presumably fascinating, posts to share with you, readers. I say presumably because upon arrival home I hadn’t the faintest recollection of what I had planned to write about. My fabulous new runners? The atrocious weather? The amazingness of Gale “Call me when you’re back on Team Gale” Weathers in Scream 4?

We may never know.

This led me to consider utilizing a dictaphone or similar to capture my thoughts from moment to moment. It occurs to me that my creative capacity may from time to time overload my memory with the sheer volume of its inspired output and therefore I may need to record these thoughts as not to lose them into the ether.

However, I recall a time when I asked a good friend of mine if she thought I could pull off one of those Bluetooth headsets. Without even the merest of silences she responded with a plain and simple, if slightly cold, “No.”

I fear the same is true of standing on a street corner saying things like “Note to self, Stephen Harper is a massive tit. Blog” or “Note to self, You are Team Gale. Blog.” People would undoubtedly think I’m weird. I have therefore endeavoured to think of the simplest solution to this most modern of problems.

I have decided to carry a notepad.

Onward.

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