Absent Muse

I think I know now how it would feel if someone were to take a caulking gun, fill it to capacity, stick in in one ear, and pump about ten pounds of high test peanut butter right into the cranial cavity. I have thoughts, but they seem to be moving slowly, and sticking to the bottom of my medulla. 

Jilda swears it's the heat but it happens sometimes when it's cold, so I'm not sure that theory holds. Anyhow, I've tapped the letters off my keyboard and I still have not come up with a decent idea, so I'm taking a "by" tonight. Maybe tomorrow the muse will visit.