Apologies for the sporadic posts – right now work is making it difficult to not only find the time to blog, but be creative. The fourteen-hour days have been piling up one on top of another, and when you’re doing that there’s not just little time to blog, but to even look outside your foxhole to see what might be going on around you.

There I was, enjoying a glass of Pinot Grigio at the pizza joint while waiting for my double order of hot wings and a salmon special when Kevin, another Friday regular who’s usually there by the time I usually arrive, started grilling me about what I thought about Barack Obama’s early cabinet choices. Now Kevin’s a nice guy, but he’s also a far-left leaning progressive who, oh by the way, works for the government (surprise!!), and he’s been chirping like a canary since The Messiah was elected to President of All That Is And Will Be.

So when he asked me about Obama’s cabinet choices, all I could do was rub my eyes and stifle a yawn while saying, “oh, what did he end up choosing for the White House kitchen, pine or oak?” – upon which Kevin thinks that’s a howl and calls me a silly goose, or something to that effect. But in reality, I didn’t even know Obama was even choosing cabinet positions. Not that I would care much, my my political disconnectedness these days is frightening. Oh I heard something on the radio about Hillary Clinton being considered for Secretary of State, but that was only in passing and I wasn’t sure it wasn’t anything more than someone else’s wishful hooey.

As my old Newfie friend John Pippy used to say, it’s all so tragic. I couldn’t tell you what was going on – if anything – in the golf world if I tried. Actually, not just the golf world, the world. Last week at Mass they included in the prayers the people of California, and I wondered whether the Big One had finally dropped it into the sea; I didn’t even know there were wildfires going on. All my Goodboys friends must think I’ve finally followed through on my threat to leave everything behind and become a desert monastic ascetic. All my favorite political blogs – I’ll admit, I haven’t looked at them since the week before the election. (Oh sure, I’ll give the Drudge Report the briefest glance each morning, but that’s just to make sure the world hasn’t ended, because if it had I’m sure Drudge would tell me, and then I wouldn’t have to spend the better part of the next twelve hours sending work to India.) Heck, last month I sent out three bills late – something I could never even imagine doing – but there’s just no time to balance the check book and send out bills. Besides, I figure if they shut off my electricity or water that will be sufficient excuse not to have to feed the global economy for a day or two.

It’s not much of a life, I’ll tell you. I do get to go out to the market one day a week, and I do take Saturdays off for good behavior, but that’s just to sleep in until near noon and spend the rest of the day taking stock of the house and its creatures that dwell therein. If it weren’t for forcing myself to take time out for my morning Matins and evening Compline, and preparing dinner and a cocktail or two for Tracey at night, I’d just be swallowed up by the laptop and India and my sense of non-being would be complete. Mind you, I’m not complaining – I’m a heck of a lot better off than a lot of people – it’s just, well, you know. I always tried to pride myself in knowing a little bit of everything that was going on so I could always make intelligent conversation with people and flirt with pizza joint waitresses, but those days seem like ages ago.

Hopefully this won’t last forever, but for right now, like Bill Belichick is wont to say, it is what it is. Be blogging you soon. I hope.