I don't think this current state of lethargy is a reflection of my age. My afternoon exhaustion started happening about two or three weeks ago, right when I started my new job. For the past 17 years, my alarm went off at 4 a.m. By the time most people punched the time clock in the morning, I already had four hours of work under my belt. My mind and body have been trained to function best before the sun has a chance to rise.
I need to retrain my mind and body. I know I write best in the early morning, but I can't do that right now. At the moment, writing has to be an afternoon or evening activity. That's going to take a period of adjustment. The last poem I wrote was for my brother's funeral, before I began my new work schedule. Now, I have to write another poem for a Father's Day event, and I haven't a single flutter of inspiration in my brain yet.
My question this Web dip Monday is:
Am I going to be able to write this new poem in time?
And the answer from E. B. White is:
"That's wonderful," said Wilbur. "How is the plan coming, Charlotte? Have you got very far with it? Is it coming along pretty well?" Wilbur was trembling again, but Charlotte was cool and collected.
"Oh, it's coming all right," she said, lightly. "The plan is still in its early stages and hasn't completely shaped up yet, but I'm working on it."
Okay. The question is whether I am Wilbur (nervous to the point of puking) or Charlotte (cool and collected).
Saint Marty feels more like a pig than a spider tonight.