I would like to be part of a plot. Not one that would cause physical harm to anyone, maybe a relatively benign plot. One that involved its fair share of skulking and whispering, maybe communicating in code. Also looking around with shifty eyes. Something like a plot to corner the market in gummed reinforcements, thus bringing the Obsolete Office Supplies industry to its knees. Which might involve a certain amount of raising up. So maybe that's not the best plot to plan furtively. I've always been kind of furtive, but with no goal in mind, no focus. Just furtivity for its own sake. This shifty-eyed furtiveness has its roots in a generalized feeling of guilt. Whenever anything bad happens in the world, I assume it's at least partially my fault. When the news broke of the earthquakes in China, I looked around furtively to see if there were any accusing fingers pointed in my general direction. And there were, in fact, but their owners had merely jumped to the conclusion that I was responsible for a bit of flatulence that had blossomed in the coffee shop, unrelated to earthquakes in China, although I knew this one guy in college who--well, never mind.