I’ve been trying to get a post up on the blog for days. The arrow of time has me pinned and wriggling on the wall.

I started a post on Sunday night, by writing:

Well it’s been a quiet weekend here in the Fortress of Solitude (FoS). Actually, I got out a few times, which seems antithetical to the premise of the hermitic existence to which I have consigned myself. But I guess I won’t berate myself too much; I did get a little reading done. And I managed to get the bathtub pretty clean. That’s something.

I’m so cute when I’m typing stuff.

I started a fourth draft of the novel. I’m making progress. Can’t wait, right?