Pst...hey, I'm over here--the one sitting in the back corner of the room at the desk facing towards the wall with my body now half-turned in the chair and waving my hand in your general direction. I thought of a limerick and thought you might appreciate it. (Well, it's actually limerick-like, so don't scoff at my inconsistent meter.) It runs like this:
A man shared a blog with two friends,
But on him they could never depend
to post any posts
or make notes on their notes.
Yet he hopes to reverse the trend.
Perhaps when you've ciphered these lines
After reading them through several times
You will come to see
That "the man" is me:
An apology given in rhyme.
I thought about looking through the blog history to figure out exactly how long it's been since I've written anything. But why willingly flog my tender conscience?
To be perfectly candid though, my apology is self-serving and therefore disingenuous. In reality, I'm hoping it buys me one more semester of blogging only intermittently (at best). It's a band-aide which doesn't come close to treating the source of my problem: overcommitment. Too many pots on the stove. Too many pigs in the sty. Too many eggs in the incubator. Et cetera. (I'm writing this on an empty stomach--hence the culinary metaphors.)
Ah, I just noticed the librarian scowling ferociously at me--the kind of scowl that says "I'll bury you alive in a box if you don't stop talking in my holy sanctuary." Alas, for I must now return to my TC project, one which daunts me almost as much as that terrifying librarian over there. Off I go. I mean, off you go and back around do I turn to my blinking cursor. Blessings to you and your kin.