Steering Lord Chesterfield

It seems like God has endowed everyone with little gifts, little gifts that maybe others don't even know about, like the ability to tie the perfect bow or an uncanny sense for finding shortcuts. I think mine might be--keeping the ball rolling. If you've ever watched those black and white movies from the 1930's where a grand lady sits at the head of a dinner party and gently steers the conversation with, "Lord Chesterfield, I hear the hunt went remarkably well yesterday?"  and then as soon as Lord Chesterfield is done regaling the table with the harrowing events of yesterday's hunt, the hostess says, "Lady Dalton is freshly arrived from Austria, what's this about a narrow escape you met with on the steamer?"--that's what I mean by keeping the ball rolling.

Yesterday I discovered it wasn't so much a gift as it was a compulsion.  I went to get a haircut. Luckily, it's only around the corner in a neighbor's shop/home.  She's a french neighbor, so conversation is somewhat difficult, but you pay no heed to that when you must keep the ball rolling.  I had debated if I should even keep my appointment because I was fast running out of steam with this Post Viral Syndrome. I had an inkling it may have been best to stay at home and rest. But my reasoning won out--I'll just be sitting there, I can rest--I'd forgotten about keeping the ball rolling.  So even though my lungs were begging me to keep quiet and not use the precious air they needed just to breathe, my neighbor and I discussed a myriad of topics while she wielded her scissors on my shorn head-

post viral syndrome (of course)
the square footage and layout of her backyard
the french/English conflict in the province of Quebec
the social and environmental impact of the Inuit territories 
our first pick for traveling abroad
how she lost 20 pounds
the extracurricular activities of her children
museums and culture in Ireland
transport options
starting dates from transplanting gardens
good neighbors vs. bad neighbors

I had no breath, but I was compelled. I really just couldn't sit there and let the conversation fall flat. Compulsion is a blessing and a curse. After that hair cut appointment I was rendered useless and had to go to bed, after I made dinner, and after I called to see how my mom made it through her hip operation, and after I saw all the little haircuts the boys had.  I should have just gone to bed, but I was...compelled.