You'd think by my age I wouldn't have any trouble with my daily routine, that it's all a matter of custom and habit, that I move easily from one activity, chore, task, whatever, to the next without pausing or thinking about it. I wish.

I have missed my early swim. If I dally much longer, I am going to miss my mid-morning swim. I'm still in bed and my feet are cold. I've had breakfast (a light one, because I'm having a friend for dinner and he wants cheese fondue - loaded with calories or Points, if you are acquainted with Weight Watchers); I've put in an order for Grocery Gateway to deliver tomorrow morning, early, to force me out to swim before they arrive; I've written a couple of letters, and spent far too long with the New York Times, and I learned a lot. But I have not had my swim.

I have discussed routine and ritual in my new book, and I'm going to have to re-read what I said. I may have to add to it. There's a difference, a mystical difference.

Just do it. I think that was a slogan a while back, a simple imperative to enable people to act on the impulse, or principle, as the case may be. I think it works best if you don't think about it. That's the point, isn't it? Just Do It. Don't think about it. Just do it. Any minute now I'm going to go swimming.

"And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought."