Another Saturday morning at the coffee shop.
The breakfast was tasty and energizing, but I return to my standard state here.
Another perusal of previously written words on a project.
Another rabbit trail off onto Wikipedia and the Boeing website for more B-17 information.
Another gathering of random facts.
It took 108 planes over a target, dropping 6 500-pound bombs each, to reasonably guarantee a specific point on the ground was hit twice and obliterated.
In 1946, Holloman Air Force Base hosted a wing of B-17 drones- the QB-17- that were used for testing of pilotless aircraft.
An hour passes. I have edited two sentences and added 3 chunks of info (with links) to my supporting info doc. And the main story remains untouched.
Because I don’t know what to do next.
So I check my email. I check the leading stories on ESPN. I check on what people have posted on Facebook. I check out.
Two hours down. More of the same. The story remains just where it began, because I cannot see what’s next.
The plane is in the yard off the tarmac, props whirring, the pilot reflecting, his next mission in front of him, all of the same great risks bearing down upon him. And his wrestlings with leading and losing.
War is hell.
This Wonder Woman soundtrack is incredible.
I give up for today. I guess I’ll go home and clean the bathroom.