Even when I have days to myself, I'm up and down from my desk constantly. Anyone watching would think I was getting nothing done at all. Yet some thread stays unbroken when I'm hanging clothes on the line, or fetching the mail, or trimming goat hooves. I stay inside my own head, which I can't do when I have those cereal-eating, radio-listening, bike-riding lives pressed up against mine.
But there's an irony too; for without those lives, I would have nothing to write about.