I was on the barn floor by ten o'clock with a game and I did not get up for most of the morning.
It is not laziness and I would like that understood, because it looks exactly like laziness from outside. A game gives you a next thing. And then another next thing. Each one is small enough to say yes to, and somewhere around the fortieth yes it is suddenly the afternoon and you have not been anywhere.
Squirmy came in twice, pink and out of breath, having run the far end of the path.
"Just one more level," I said, the second time. Or possibly the fourth.