Where am I? I’m here. But not here, if you know what I mean. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve logged on, clicked the ‘write’ tab, and stared. Throughout my day, there are probably five to ten times that I think of something that I should write about. There are easily five to ten things that piss me off to the level of needing to rant incoherently. There are, at least, five to ten things that sadden me, anger me, or tickle me to death. (Southern expression, y’all. Sorry.) But I click on, and the brain clicks off.

I’m not sure what it is. The stress at work has leveled off considerably. Home life is chugging along with nary a problem. Well, nary a problem worth writing about, anyway. (Nary. Strange word, no? Does anyone use that word north of the M-D line? Does anyone younger than eighty use it?)

Anyway, I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I won’t even try.  But I’m here.  And I’ll try to come back with a little more frequency.  (As a matter of fact, something just occurred to me that you guys really should hear about.  So I’ll work on getting that to you next week.)  Because there is really no reason for me to still be gone.

Can’t blame the writers’ strike. Even they came back.

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