Soap, water––all of the hand sanitizer––my hands have had it rough these past few weeks. They need a break. They're so dry they're cracking. They need to be slimed. Pike slimed. That thick, viscous, alien substance brings life to rusty knuckles. At least, right until the wind hits them, which dries them into dust––but until then, that slime takes me back to the time of the earliest fisherman. History is long. Go be a part of it. If you can do it safely.
Sleeping in is a waste of daylight. Do what you love––go fishing. No excuses. This blog post was originally sent as part of my new daily newsletter series, An Excuse to Fish. If you like excuses to go fishing, a new one delivered to your inbox every morning, sign up for the daily newsletter.