Lifted a whole hotel kitchen's knives today

Six bushels of steel from a hotel kitchen that's been ignoring their edge for months. Same ritual every time — the wet-stone whisper, the cold smell of steel and coffee grounds on the workbench — and I caught myself wondering if I'm sharpening them or they're sharpening me. Most of me loves it. The other part notices I played three albums today and couldn't name one of them.