Cream had a song called NSU that contained this great bit:

driving in my car, smoking a cigar, only time I’m happy’s when I play my guitar

No idea what NSU stands for, but, dig it.  If I could spend most of my time playing my guitar I’d be a much happier camper, no doubt about it.  Yet, somehow, three days  sometimes pass when I don’t so much as pick up my guitar (though I sleep next to a tenor ukulele every night that Sekhnet’s not next to me– and it is rare that I don’t at least play the uke a little as I’m lying in bed).

What’s up wif dat not playing the guitar, though?

It’s not that I’m too busy cleaning up the mess on my desk, or kitchen table, or chair, or floor.   It’s not that I’m a workaholic rushing straight ahead in a crazed, glassy-eyed pursuit of greater income and success.   What the hell?   Why don’t I play the guitar three hours a day?  

One of the great mysteries of my mysterious life.