Apologies, dear friends. This is not the post I wanted to write after nearly three weeks of radio silence. There are better words in me than these, but I can’t seem to get them onto the page this morning. I suspect that fatigue has something to do with it, for this August has been a tiring month. Any rest and rejuvenation that came from my week of archive-diving in Connecticut pretty much evaporated on my first day back at LuthorCorp, where the usual box-based hilarity was augmented by our upcoming office move, taking place this weekend. Under the best circumstances an office move is a pain the neck, but this particular office move has been a difficult one for me, calling up feelings I thought I had buried long ago.
(Well, yes, there is a story behind that somewhat provocative sentence. One of these days, I really should tell it.) 
In addition to this emotionally interesting office move, as well as the normal course of business in the box factory (including covering for the busiest woman with the most thankless job in the whole organization), I have also been living under the looming shadow of the LSAT, which is just under four weeks away. I’m running a lot of drills, trying to improve both my speed and accuracy on the logic puzzles, but every time I try to breathe deeply, absorb the fact patterns and decipher the unwritten assumptions in each puzzle, I can literally feel my mind running into the brick wall that separates it from full comprehension. Depending on what time I start studying at nights and on weekends, I run into this wall anywhere from four to ten times a night. You run into that many brick walls at a time, and after a while it starts to leave marks. I have been reminded by friends, parents, spouse, champions all, that if I keep working at the puzzles, the outcome of this test will be much, much better than the one I took in December. I know they are right, but I’m not feeling it just yet.
I will also admit to a little distraction—hell, no, outright worry—because Lloyd is in the grip of a bad, bad bronchial infection. Two weekends ago he picked up a cough, which we thought was viral, passed on to him by the woman who sat behind us on the bus from Hartford to Danbury, coughing all the way. A week ago, his cough getting worse and worse, Lloyd woke up and told me that one of his ears was numb. Within 24 hours, he emerged from the doctor’s office with a battery of prescriptions for antibiotics, decongestants and cough suppressants. He is now midway through his antibiotics, and while he is getting better, he is far from well, and he still has to sleep in a sitting position if he wants to get any rest. I am amazed that he hasn’t cracked a rib from coughing, and I am well beyond frustrated at my inability to do anything to make him better. I can make tea, and that’s about it.
If this all sounds depressing, or tedious, well, it is. But I also know that it’s all temporary—we’ll settle into the new office, Lloyd will get better, the LSAT will be over soon enough, and at any rate is just a test—and that there will be better stories to tell. I know they’re right around the corner, because I have proof:
Confidential to ‘mouse: Relax. It’s only a little yarn porn, it’ll be over soon enough, and when it is, I promise you’ll be smiling.
(There you go, ‘mouse. I’ll bet you’re already feeling better.)