Keeping my mind on my writing is not easy when i stay at my grandmother's ocean-side cottage. just about the time that i am going along pretty well, i glance out the window and see two huge bald eagles swooping and tumbling in a spectacular aerial display. naturally, i have to leave my desk and rush to the doorway to watch the performance as long as it lasts. then, as if a conspiracy were trying to keep me from working, two otters poke their shiny heads out of the water and hang there motionless. they watch to see what i am doing. as soon as i return to my desk, seagulls wheel into my window view and screech as they search for scraps of food. within minutes, this confusion of sounds stirs my aging st. bernard out of a deep sleep, and he hauls his massive, lumbering body over to be petted. mickey, my cat, can't stand to see any partiality, so he is soon pacing back and forth across my ankles. as i wiggle my bare toes to tease mickey, i realize that my legs have become stiff. i remember that i have not had my daily ride. so, i slip on my sandals, step out the door, spring onto my bike, and pedal off down the beach. meanwhile, the composition in my typewriter sits and grows colder.
what is the thesis?