There are days when I'll be doing research for my writing, and I cocoon. I note the passage of time. Day and night. I get hungry. I see people leave in the morning, come home at night. I see the handsome young black men wander below my window. I see the sun set and the trees in the park next door glow green and red.
And then I realize one morning that I haven't done dishes in four days, and I'm out of plates. I realize I haven't picked up my mail in a week. I open my apartment door, and five or six fliers flutter to the ground.
It's not shocking to me. It's just a realization that I should maybe take a break for a bit, and do the things in life that I need to do.
Like, oh, I dunno. Blog.