I thought I was here to fish. But not so much this time. The heat is on, and the trout don’t exactly take to being the conciliatory sort when they need the sanctuary of colder waters.
I was going to work on the second chapter for my book, but I’ve changed gears for the moment. See I have this problem: I make friends with an entire room of people. Then, I get myself into conversations–mind you conversations I enjoy–but I tend to get derailed from the cognitive solitude I thought I was going to maintain when I walked in.
And . . . there’s people in here.
Such is the millstone hung about the neck of the garden-variety, conversational gadfly that’s interested in nearly everything at some level.