I’ve been out of commission for a while.  Not as in a my-organs-were-removed/repaired-and-I’m-recuperating sort of way, but in an I’ve-lost-all-drive-to-write sort of way.  Personally, the former would be easier for me to deal with.  I have a pretty high pain tolerance and not all organs are necessary for survival.  Just ask Slim Goodbody.

I attempted to pinpoint when the creative breakdown was conceived, but I failed to locate that nefarious moment.  I’ve no recent traumatizing situations to speak of, save for my friend’s Christmas party where she kept dumping out my drink in order to wash my glass.  I would set down my glass to talk to someone and then turn back around to take a sip of wine only to discover it sprouted legs and trotted away.  (I must warn you that one has to watch their plate around her, too.  It’s a compulsion she’s trying to tame.)

At any…