So I now find that I have been writing PreAnni for two days. Two days _in toto_ that is, as I keep a running sum of the time of each learning session. This is far from exact measure, though, as it includes reading a thing in the textbooks before writing it. In trying to minimize looking back and forth, I’m noticing myself carrying slightly longer strings of words in my head, as well — an unforseen side effect. This takes me into the second run of lesson VII (bringing in the blends, which seem so magical), as I do everything in the manual, the Speed Studies, and /Word and Sentence Drills/ in staggered triplicate.
I find that certain drillish sentences and phrases have set up their houses in my grey matter. Here, the home of the fellow who would fish from his raft, for he could not catch perch from the bridge. And here is the tidy home of the girl who does her best to efface all trace of the acid from the brass. I wonder if this sort of thing might slip out into the mundane world; I might say to a trainee at work “Be aware that a gay air may not aid you here.”