How on earth did William Faulkner manage to churn out those wonderful, intricate novels while living in north Mississippi?!
Yesterday I worked out in the afternoon (though in the water) and my brain made like butterscotch pudding.
Today I mowed the lawn first thing, while it was still “cool,” and I’ve been disinclined to do anything beyond read magazines and drink iced tea.
Gonna have to figure something out. For sure.