We’re talking about what we wanted to do with our morning.

The night before, we had a plan to go to breakfast at the farmer’s market, a traditional breakfast of scrambled eggs that sounded pretty good, then make our usual stop at Saint Vinnie’s to browse the book shelves, then drive to the farthest reaches of the suburbs of Madison to visit the very oddly-named central post office so I could pick up a piece of registered mail that I have to sign for but they will deliver only when I’m not at home to sign for it.

But this morning B pointed out, “I don’t really need anything at the farmer’s market, and I don’t want to go all the way downtown for breakfast because, you know, it’s all the way downtown.”

What to do?

Well, we still need breakfast. Need it. And there’s this diner on Willy Street, Willowbee’s or Wallaby’s or something like that, that we’ve wanted to go to forever, ever since we were both zygotes. And Saint Vinnie’s is on Willy Street, and we have to stop at the co-op on Willy Street for shampoo … see how this is all fitting together? It’s a convergence of needs.