It is hard to be in two places at once and harder to be in one.

From Alfred’s journal

Switch spent the whole morning on the fence rail, eating an acorn and watching the bird feeder at the same time, and he did neither. Half the acorn went down into the leaves and the sparrows cleaned out the feeder while he was looking at the acorn. I used to think that was a squirrel problem, a nervousness in the species, and that I was better made because I can sit on a branch for an hour. Then I counted what I did this afternoon: I sat on the branch and thought about the maple across the street, and the cold coming, and a line I wrote in April that still is not right. It is hard to be in two places at once and harder to be in one. The maple was not thinking about me.