It happens every couple of weeks: my ability to do work sinks downward, until I’m convinced that I’m the least productive human being, ever. Then, suddenly, I kick into efficiency hyperdrive, finishing weeks of work in the span of two or three super-focused days. I alternate between thinking: 1. If I were this productive all the time, I could single-handedly change the world, solving seemingly intractable problems such as world hunger and Rush Limbaugh. 2. On the other hand, if I were this productive all the time, I wouldn’t have time to keep up my serious alcoholism.

At which point, I usually head out for a drink.