I do a poor job drying myself, but within minutes of clambering free from the shower I have my tie, shirt and pants already selected. Its a mystery that amongst the bundle of crumpled workwear, all knotted and exhausted from a deathmatch with the dryer, I spot a colour code that instantly works for me.
After getting dressed, I load up my computer without needing reminder that the desktop has run out of space for more icons. Probably the only thing saving me from pressing Ctrl+A and Delete is the illusion of order that having things arranged at right angles can create. Two hundred and eighty icons, some of which float a good 5 cm off the edge of the screen, all perfectly aligned, are remarkably easy to navigate across. Clicking on the correct icon is as calculated as aiming to hit a distant target. Yet, I get it every time
This is the New Intelligence - the ability to weave through the chaos to salvage a strand of order.
I am an expert. Until I see a face. Then, I am lost.
