I know what’s going to happen later this morning. At 11 I will get into my car, drive to the local pond, feed the ducks, make an illegal U-turn and head back to the village where I will park outside the post office, walk up to the door, and find it locked. Then I will remember that today is the Veterans Day holiday. By a certain age most of us are guided through the days by an inner automatic pilot. We call it force of habit. So the daily visit to the post office is not something that I plan or choose to do, it just happens. Habits give us the charming illusion that we are in charge of our own lives – an illusion that is instantly shattered when the routine is interrupted. That’s why many people find vacations so stressful. Every tiny disruption can be unsettling. The closed door of the post office is like a stick suddenly placed in the path of an ant. What shall I do now? Without the mail to look at and grumble over there is an unanticipated gap in my morning routine. Maybe I will