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.

<shakes head>

Gonna have to figure something out. For sure.