I’ve gotten to the point of busy, one day before my vacation, where I keep putting down the much-beloved Ticonderoga pencils that I always use, then forgetting where I put them, and, having neither the time nor the inclination to look for them, I just take another brand-new pencil out of my pencil jar and sharpen it and get back to work.
This means that I’m running through pencils at the rate of roughly one per hour.
It also means I’m finding the missing ones in really strange places.
Like my back pocket.
WHEN I SIT DOWN.