As I am preparing to call it a day, I sit and stare in front of myself. Two rival thoughts keep flashing through my mind one after another. On the one hand, I am happy not to have a single thought worth writing down. This I proudly take as a sign of my progress. On the other hand, I am unhappy not to have anything to write about. Most of the day has been fallow in this regard, and I feel rather guilty about it. After a long while, a third thought unexpectedly comes to my rescue: the guilt I feel is considerably stronger than the pride. My progress is thus hardly worth bragging about, after all. At long last, I have something worth writing down.