On thought-mice

"Thought-mice" is my name for those thoughts, usually full-formed sentences, that skitter along the bottom of my consciousness without my even always noticing them. Often they are negative, occasionally they are the source of inspiration, sometimes when I hold them up squeaking to the light they make no sense at all. Stupid mice -- they certainly lend credence to the whole "society of mind" argument.

(And no, I don't know who is the "I" who holds the mice up for examination and I'm not going down that rathole just now.)

Does anyone else ever notice these? Some days they seem to make up a lot of what I'm aware of, and those days are "mousy" and I usually feel scatterbrained and somewhat out of control when that happens.

At any rate, yesterday morning a thought-mouse said, very clearly: whatever. If I make a complete mess of things now, I can still set up a good life in my 40s.

Thanks, mouse, that was... cheering, in its way. It's still plan B and not plan A, however. Now get on with your squeaky little self.