I discovered an interesting thing about myself during a recent 3-day, 1600-mile road trip: if I don't get a bit of solitude and do a bit of writing every day or so, I get cranky. I suppose it may be similar to what runners experience, where at a certain level of conditioning the daily rush of endorphins becomes so addictive that a day missed is a day lost. I'm not quite at that stage, but I learned that the itch to scratch out a few lines each day can only be relieved by rubbing up against keyboard or pen, even if ever so briefly...Ah, there it is--that contented bliss, like a sow raking her hide against a hedge post. Life is good. : )
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