"... all this stuff will be moved. You would be right about that..."

Fractured cell phone conversations. I walk half a mile through the downtown area every morning and afternoon, bracketing my workday with a constitutional. Almost every day there is at least one person declaiming loudly into a cell phone or earpiece/mic. (Sure beats the old days when there'd be at least one person declaiming loudly into the air or at other pedestrians [ME!].) Sometimes the cell conversations are happening in a language I don't understand. I recognize it as a dialect of English, but the flow of words and their pronunciation don't carry meaning for me. Those are the days I ask myself just exactly how out of touch with common parlance I am becoming. Today wasn't one of those days. I understood every word.