Ever wonder where your life goes? Ever feel like someone left the drain open on it and it’s just spiraling down (which way does it go in the Northern Hemisphere?) into the plumbing? I just spent an hour cleaning out my Inbox (2100 items at start, 0 at end) looking for a sense of accomplishment but I’m not sure it happened. Really what I need to do is pack since we’ll need to leave the house tomorrow around 6 AM to get on a 8:45 flight to Columbus. And I’m putting that off like like a trip to the proctologist.

My writing book says there are infinite reasons NOT to write but you have to find 1 TO write. That’s just about as hard as it sounds.

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