Observation
On occasion, I will become a trifle obsessed with whatever troubles or problems appear before me. Today, on two separate occasions, I was informed that someone had lost something; on both occasions I was well and determined to help find the lost article, despite being some miles away from both and, in one case, having no perspective on the original location, appearance, or temperament of the lost item at all. In the first case, after some remote reproduction, I was able to ascertain the fate of the missing object, a written document of some 3 hours in the making, alas unrecoverable by that time. The second case I quickly realized was hopeless, at least from the perspective of my helpful input, but I decided to take a stab at the dark anyway. Would it not be brilliant if my intuition from afar were to help, to deduce what could not be observed by those at the scene? As you may imagine, my input helped not at all except to perhaps lighten the mood of the one whose search it was. But I cannot deny brief imaginings of the scene, of the awestruck bystanders and the unhealthy swelling of my already well-proportioned ego. Perhaps it is better this way. One cannot set their standards as high as the greats, the likes of Gregory House and Sherlock Holmes, and keep one's self esteem intact.