Sometimes the second track in a switchtrack isn’t out in the open, but runs underground. Our reactions remain locked in our heads, silently shouting objections while we resentfully endure the criticism from our stepdaughter or department head. We’ve long since switched to our own topic: Wow, you’re telling me to calm down? You’re the most tightly wound person I’ve ever met in my life. And I guess I now have to add un–self-aware. We then walk away and vent our frustrations to others. (“Is Jenna the most neurotic person on the planet, or just this hemisphere? I can’t decide.”) We triangulate the
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