An apathy has set in at my tying desk, and it reeks of stale alcohol and dried out epoxy. I have been snowed in for the past couple of days high atop the mountain in Dave-landia, and one would think that I would be swimming in my new pile of freshly tied hook and fur like Scrooge McDuck pulling a full gainer into his money bin. At last, my desk sits full of materials and no flies. I have attempted to motivate myself in the usual ways. Two days ago it was self-flagellation. I woke up, looked in the mirror and said to myself, “Dave, you are ugly, not worth a shit as a human being, and no one will like you unless you tie three dozen flies today.” I spent the rest of the day feeling pretty bad about myself…you know, my mom never hugged me enough type of stuff…and never got around to tying a single fly amongst all the self-loathing. So, yesterday I tried financial incentives. I told myself that I would tie flies on a bonus system similar to those Wall Street fellas. I then realized that I, like Wall Street, was paying out my own bonus, and tying it to performance wasn’t all that necessary. So I am now 20 dollars richer (took it out of wifey’s wallet), and I still haven’t tied a damn thing. Today I am withholding sex from myself until a dozen or so flies have been completed. I have high hopes for holding myself sexual hostage from myself, because if it doesn’t work, tomorrow I will try some new age positive reinforcement and spiritual centering…and we all know that crap never works.