OH, HOW YOU MUST HATE ME
It's been ten days since I've updated, and no one -- no one -- has checked to see if I'm all right. No one--- oh wait, that's not quite true. I forgot about Doug and Jeff... Almost no one! Would it have been so difficult to send an e-mail, Skip? Would it kill you to pick up the phone, MAK? No, I didn't think so! I could have been lying in a ditch, bleeding to death, while being exposed to large insects and dirt! And you wouldn't have cared!

Oh, you'd be all 'I should have checked on him and now I feel bad and boo-hoo' if I had, in fact, died in that bloody, dirty ditch. But it would never have even occured to you that you could have not felt bad and, oh, saved my fucking life by taking just a tiny bit of initiative. Consider this a life lesson: if you want to save yourself the heartache of knowing that you could have prevented someone's bloody dirt-ditch death by doing something, you should DO SOMETHING! Don't keep thinking it's someone else's responsibility, 'cause I know those people, and they are not responsible.

You're lucky I'm just being slammed by the day job, trying to pound out a new book, and detoxing, instead of lying in a bloody, dirty ditch. I mean it; you're lucky.

Okay, I think you all feel bad enough at this point, so there's no sense harping on it. You can apologize in the comments.