So--what has precipitated this earth-shattering event?
Did I finally publish that book?
Did I finally meet and seduce Ewan McGregor?
Did I finally score my actual age on that Real Age test, rather than being told I'm 52?
Did I finally admit an addiction to meth during my tennis career?
Sadly, no on all counts. But I did get prescribed some more prednisone! And long-time readers will recall that prednisone = insomnia + productivity. Ergo, I now have 5 or 6 extra hours a day to do what the experts call "stuff," one element of which is blogging.
I've missed you, friends. I've stifled many a rant over the past few months, having no outlet for their fury. So--let's begin again, shall we?