I worked on the Press this morning, folded some laundry after lunch, and read an ugly submission to the Press this evening. And I was going to write, in the garage studio (so dark, so quiet, so cool) but then a gnat-bug flew up my nose and I was totally thrown off my groove.
This is a fact of reality. If a bug flies up your nose, it throws you off your life's plan.
Unless you are a writer of horror, in which case, you welcome the event and run with it.
That would not be me.