Somedays a walk to the river is a remedy. Amid the ruckus of urban construction projects, the drone of downtown automobile traffic, and the labor of knowledge work, small urban spaces provide much needed havens. I grab a sketchbook, a cup of coffee and 30-minutes beside the river after an afternoon walk.
 The first time I read the term knowledge worker was in a book by Tom Peters. He may have acquired the term from Peter Drucker.
 There is a great coffeeshop, Colectivo, in the Third Ward near the Public Market that I like to visit.
The reason such seemingly trivial mental tasks leave us depleted is that they exploit one of the crucial weak spots of the brain. A city is so overstuffed with stimuli that we need to constantly redirect our attention so that we aren’t distracted by irrelevant things, like a flashing neon sign or the cellphone conversation of a nearby passenger on the bus. This sort of controlled perception — we are telling the mind what to pay attention to — takes energy and effort. The mind is like a powerful supercomputer, but the act of paying attention consumes much of its processing power.
Interesting. Is this another call to simple, rural living?