It's not like there wasn't anything worth writing about (there was), or that I was somewhere exotically inaccessible (I wasn't) -- I was just somewhere in the mushy middle, buried under an ever-growing slushpile of things to talk about, as well as an ever-growing list of things to keep procrastinating upon.
I'm still underemployed (by choice, mostly), and I wonder how I ever got anything done when I wasn't. And mind you, I was pretty good (which is to say, bad) about subsuming my personal life into my work life.
Anyway, the time just keeps getting away from me.
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