Cinco De Mayo

Pondering on this first Monday of May, I realize that I will need to press on to meet deadlines before my deadlines.  This is principally the case because I will be out of the country in July.  (Don't worry, I'm hiring two Dobermans and several in-laws to secure the estate, including my secret trove of black licorice, while I'm overseas.)

But I realize that losing that month has forced me to work ahead.  I've completed now most of my deadline material for July, including columns, book reviews and essays . . . and for all intents and purposes I've also completed a second massive book that I will be hand-delivering to New York in October.  In fact, I see that I wrote something like 60,000 words in April alone.  

Amazingly, I accomplished all of this without the aid of artificial sweeteners, amphetamines, weight-loss powders, or prescription eyewear.  Neither was I being propped up by tasty food, fireworks, or sex.  Really, for the past five weeks it's just been me, the moonlight, and a well-oiled keyboard.  I'm sharing these things so that others can know all things are possible on an average of three hours of sleep and two pots of coffee.  I'm not a rockstar although, at times, I must drive myself mercilessly by listening to "Highway to Hell."  

But here's the kicker, Bernie.  May can't be much gentler.  If I'm leaving on a jet plane in July I've got to kick butt for the next eight weeks.  From Cinco de Mayo to Cinco de July I've got to hammer away during David Letterman and then rise before Al Roker begins to make his way to wardrobe and makeup.  

And since I don't know when another big ol' box of books might arrive (for review) or when another editor might call with the question--"Can you get this to me by tomorrow?"--I've got to stay prepared like a Boy Scout.  

I'll be prepared.  Just don't expect me to be thrifty or clean.  I often sleepwalk.  And I hear that my wife sometimes finds me writing in my underwear with a blank stare on my face.  I just hope I don't wake the neighbors.