Now, bees are known for being busy, but they can't compare to the frenzy of a wasp nest. The insects are constantly on the move, whether they are flying off for some unknown bit of sustenance, or they are simply traversing the nest from one end to the other. I am tempted to get a big stick and knock down the nest, just to get them to stop.
Of course, I don't really mean harm to the wasps. Besides trying to get into the house every now and then, they're really not a bother...yet. I think what I really want to do is to stop myself, stop the running around, the working, the chore-ing, the revising, the writing. I think I'm sick of myself.
Does anyone else ever feel this way? Down time can be an important part of the writing process. Like an overextended Ford Taurus engine, we need to rest, or we'll overheat and start spewing noxious hot smoke out of the air vents. Doesn't a little free time sound good? So, as the summer afternoon beckons and the light breeze softly tousels the branches of the oak outside my window, I am advocating...nothing. Don't do any writing this week. Let the engine cool, and the imagination reset. But leave the wasps alone, they can't help it.