" . . . days come and go like muffled and vague figures sent from a distant, friendly party, but they say nothing and if we do not use the gifts they bring, they carry them away silently."
It's such a sweet reminder to me (and to you) to write every day. The body craves exercise because it wants to be used. The mind likes to be tickled by big, difficult books and used until its synapses smoke. A piano plays better when it doesn't just stand in the corner. Thoroughbreds don't want to just stare out of their stalls; they want to run.
Write a haiku while you're stuck in traffic or waiting outside the grade school. Edit a single page. The days don't care how well you write, where you write or how you're dressed. They just want to be used.
Walt Whitman said, "What is called good is perfect and what is called bad is also perfect." And Walt didn't waste any time, either.