Wrote through a Sunday afternoon family visit, TV droning in the corner, without anyone really noticing; they almost expect this sort of behavior from me now.

Part of a conversation with my father-in-law: “Working on your book? Old book, new book?” he asked.

By the time I looked up and said, yes, that one, he was fixing a lawn mower in the garage.

I’m going straight to hell, I swear.