Right

The desert doesn't linger, you are immediately thrust back into the world. Inspiration peters, the itch to always be writing is replaced with a to-do list. You founder in the questions. Outside the window, a minor squall whips itself across the valley, you commiserate with its dejected attitude. You're feeling something similar yourself. 

It's the knowing something is waiting in the wings that gets you. It's the impatient knockings of outside demands that drain the inspiration from your fingertips. You always were a sucker for a checked box. 

One thing at a time. The rain will pass, the sun return. One stumble does not make a fall.