Dear friends,
I have spent the past 90 minutes trying to find some clever and writerly way to say that all has not been well at the box factory since my return from Mystic. That I have only been able to muster the previous sentence is a sign of just how dire things have become. As ever, I am loath to part with details, partly because even in my worst moments I’d rather not be dooced out of a job, but mostly because the sordid details are only sordid—and interesting—to those of us who actually work there. They do not make for interesting reading; nor do they make for cathartic writing. All they do is steal my time and creative energy, and they do a spectacular job of it.
I do have stories to tell, dear friends, and I would like to promise that you’ll find them in this space soon, but between LSAT revision and the sheer amount of energy I need just to get through a day without grinding my teeth into dust, I have no idea just when I’ll be able to produce them. If you’ve read this from me one too many times and have decided that you’ve had enough, I certainly wouldn’t blame you. But I do hope that you haven’t. To quote another pair of sages of the ages, I do appreciate your being ‘round.
