I keep wondering when I'll actually sit down and start working on my next book. When will I pick up my 6-string and give it a long-overdue tune-up? When will I actually master the little things, like chords on the piano? When will I just quit fooling myself and put the Cobras, Titleists, Clevelands and Eidolons back in the trunk?
If the answer is "when hell freezes over," I'm afraid we're almost there. The course was blanketed with frost this morning. But with the economy flown south for the winter, another kid going off to college next year, and a bailout of the ad industry nowhere in sight, who has time for golf anymore anyway? No wonder the book isn't written, the guitar's out of tune and the piano is merely a piece of furniture in my living room. All I do is work these days.
But I guess it beats the alternative.
Or does it?