Dog days of summer? More like giant sloth days.
I’m laying here in the park with my hound. Hounds know how to deal with 100 degree days. Move slow. My dog moves so slow sometimes it’s like he’s moving backwards.
Of course, this summer is unique. Rising temperatures and plague. Talk about a serious cocktail of non-productivity.
I’ve been working the entire six months of Coronavirus-stock. And in the center of COVID ground zero. New York City. But incrementally, day by day, things have slowed. My brain is mushy. My ambition like a wet noodle. I crawl from my desk, go to the park, find shade.
Manet once said, artristy means no task. Well, I’m perfecting the art. Even doing nothing is a chore.
So roll on August. Roll on tropical city. My inspiration is my dog. He thinks the best thing is shade and a nap. Me too.