I've been busy lately. You know how it is.
The busy has been snowballing. When this happens, I build a pebbly crust around it. The current crust is about a week thick, and consists mostly of emails, and bits of my to-do list.
Not so long ago, the layers of my crusts were numbered in years.
The crust's insides can ripen into dusty emptiness, if left unchecked.
When I find some quiet time, the crust cracks. The busy blows away.
Then I start to write again. It makes me happy.
That's how I know.
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