Other movement can do that, too. If I'm stuck in writing I will go from desk to table, or drag the laptop onto the bed, or take my legal pad up to the rooftop pool. The change of venue helps to reboot the brain and give the work some extra "oomph."
I'm sure this refreshment applies to people who aren't writers, too. Tom, my husband, now telecommutes one day a week, and he says that small change of venue helps his thoughts about legal issues. And I suspect that not all the people tapping away on their devices in the local coffee shop are there for the java alone.
Occasionally, it doesn't work. During my first draft of Fish-Eye Lens, I accompanied a friend on a trip to a small town in the Dominican Republic. Although I tried writing in our room, on the balcony, at a table outside a local bar and in the park, it was impossible. Among the blaring reggaeton and bachata music, buzzing motorbikes, political campaigners in pickup trucks filled with amps and the daily rounds of the plantain man, I couldn't "hear" my characters. I had to return to the Turks and Caicos to get back the rhythms of Cynthia's voice.
Soon I'll be changing my venue in a big way by going again to the Turks and Caicos. I'll be "on location" for the current novel and hope the scenery and lifestyle will inspire lots of pages. I'll also keep my eyes and ears open so I can recognize the seeds of new short stories.
And yes, I'll be up on ladders and stepstools, mostly trying to reach things or clean windows. But I'll stop and look around while I'm up there to get a different perspective on my non-writing life, too.
Just as I think everyone should.