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Days without you, O Internet! They seem like so many days of empty hospital shuttles and compaining (this is such a satisfying typo that I am going to leave it) customers and hotel rooms and laptops shared with mothers (and quickly-hidden folders full of porn) and long road trips and paperwork and beloved, much-missed restaurants and movies and afternoons on the phone and nights holed up in casinos with marina views and hot hot weather and packing and unpacking and packing and unpacking and cleaning and pulled muscles and furniture-building and dog-cuddling and cat-combing.
I was busy! I was. But I still missed everyone something fierce-like.
:::
One of the things I was talking about on the phone earlier was a tendency I am having lately to belly up to my update button, full of things to say, and suddenly think, why, no one actually wants to hear me talk about my new kitchen shelves! No one wants to hear about this book I've just read. No one has any interest at all in my chapped lips. And so I just push myself away without updating.
Here is the thing, though. Maybe you would like me to regale you with stories of my grandmothers or my dog or my road trip through the Heart, as Ignatius Reilly and perhaps Joseph Conrad would say, of Darkness. Maybe you are dying to know what my hair is looking like, these days. Maybe you want to see a picture of my nose ring, or my bathroom curtains, or the hydrangea shrub out front of my house which is blooming nicely. Maybe you would like to ask me a question about the current state of my library account, or about the boy next door who has chained his puppy out on the front porch which drives me crazy and sends me out on the porch to check on him (the puppy, not the boy) every ten minutes or so. IT IS RAINING OUTSIDE I TELL YOU I MUST CHECK EVERY TEN MINUTES OR SOMETHING TERRIBLE MIGHT HAPPEN.
I wouldn't want to presume, however. Also I don't quite know where to begin. So if there's something you want me to tell you about, just drop me a comment and I will write you an entry.
Okay, time to go check on Abey.
I was busy! I was. But I still missed everyone something fierce-like.
:::
One of the things I was talking about on the phone earlier was a tendency I am having lately to belly up to my update button, full of things to say, and suddenly think, why, no one actually wants to hear me talk about my new kitchen shelves! No one wants to hear about this book I've just read. No one has any interest at all in my chapped lips. And so I just push myself away without updating.
Here is the thing, though. Maybe you would like me to regale you with stories of my grandmothers or my dog or my road trip through the Heart, as Ignatius Reilly and perhaps Joseph Conrad would say, of Darkness. Maybe you are dying to know what my hair is looking like, these days. Maybe you want to see a picture of my nose ring, or my bathroom curtains, or the hydrangea shrub out front of my house which is blooming nicely. Maybe you would like to ask me a question about the current state of my library account, or about the boy next door who has chained his puppy out on the front porch which drives me crazy and sends me out on the porch to check on him (the puppy, not the boy) every ten minutes or so. IT IS RAINING OUTSIDE I TELL YOU I MUST CHECK EVERY TEN MINUTES OR SOMETHING TERRIBLE MIGHT HAPPEN.
I wouldn't want to presume, however. Also I don't quite know where to begin. So if there's something you want me to tell you about, just drop me a comment and I will write you an entry.
Okay, time to go check on Abey.
