I hate when this happens. Interplanetary collision syndrome (ICS; sometimes also written out “icks”) has again reared its ugly head in my solar system.
The usual symptoms: Inability to focus on the things I really love, leading to feelings of frustration that complicate my ability to do even simple tasks and remember important facts leading to further feelings of incompetence and defensiveness and…
… the causes are easy to trace. Once again, Planet Cash Cow (a small, erratically-behaving planet, furthest from the sun in my solar system, just like Pluto) will not behave as heavenly bodies ought. It either breaks its normal orbit to chase me; or its gravity mysteriously strengthens to the point where I cannot leave its atmosphere.
ICS works like this: Suppose I’m due on Planet Dad or Planet Muse. Either I can’t get there because of the gravity on Cash Cow, or maybe I have gotten away but then I hear a noise and suddenly, crash. Planet Cash Cow can be relentless in its pursuit of me. The collision impact screws up all my other planets’ rotations, axis and revolutions, thus screwing up their calendars and causing other kinds of ruckus on these planets.
Cash Cow does belong in my solar system because it has resources the other planets need. You know, precious metals, that sort of thing. If the darn planet would just let me commute there and back in my space ship so I could mine the stuff I need and bring it back to Planet Dad (where the cities are) and to Planet Muse (where the wide open spaces are) – but no dice.
So if I’m not writing as much as I should lately and my wife and kids are forgetting what I look like, it’s because I’m at my day job!