If you are reading this post within a few weeks of my writing then it is currently June. If you are reading this post at some later point, there is a one in twelve chance that it is currently June. For the sake of this post, we will assume that it is currently June.
Since it is June and I have not posted an article on a website that is technically fifty percent mine in several months, inquiring minds have begun to inquire. Their inquiries have led them to the inevitable question, " Where is Pat?" and "Why hasn't Pat regailed us with his fantastical writings?" and "Why didn't we notice earlier that Adam is a much better writer than Pat?" Furthermore, the inquiries of these inquiring minds have forced them into an inevitable conclusion. Pat is dead and buried in Adams back yard under a sign labeled RIP Captain Wigglesworth.
Alas, the inquiries of the aformentioned inquiring minds resulted in falicious conclusion. I, Pat, am not in fact buried in Adams back yard nor dead. Instead, I am alive and well and still spending most of my time above ground.
Since the faithless naysayers and inquirers are patently incorrect and I am writing this post and you are presumably reading this post. I will now explain where I have been in as few words as I possibly can.
I have been busy.
Since many of you may find this parsimonious account too parsimonious. I will now attempt to un-breifitize the account to suit your tastes. If the previous account was sufficient please cease reading ath the proceeding period.
Over the last two months, my life has been racked by changes that have completely dissolved my connection to the world and to the internet. These changes include but are not limited to;
- I left my old job and spent an entire month hunting for a new job. During this time I found several jobs but discovered after investing considerable time that they would not suit my current circumstances. This process eventually resulted in employment but consumed a vast quantity of my time.
- I moved to a new apartment in a new city. I have spent a considerable amount of time opening boxes labeled Kitchen and discovering a single plate surrounded by office supplies, electronics and old newspapters. My labeling system, while devious, has proved inefficient.
- My son survived and entire year of life. While this may not seem time consuming to many people, they are all foolish fools. There is a secret area in every little boys brain that is activated by living past the age of one. This area secrets a hormone that turns all little boys into a miniature version of the hulk who throws things around the room and can continue playing long after his keepers have collapsed from exhaustion. This miniature version of the hulk also really likes to dance.
- I am now a werewolf.
- My new apartment is located in furthest reaches of the Japanese countryside. My internet packets are now delivered by a man with a wicker basket on Tuesdays and Thursdays with National Holidays off. This arrangement is mutually beneficial but not fast.
Now that you know why I have failed to entertain and delight you. I would ask you all to remain patient while my internet delivery man trudges through rice paddies, forests and suburbs to bring you my internet stylings. He is not fleet of foot but his very reliable and quite diligent.