uncommunicado

My website is down. My e-mail is kaput. My posts to this blog are slowing down to one every three or four days. I haven't called my friends in the USA. If there's a gene for staying in touch with the world, I don't have it.

Apparently it's crucial to be wired, plugged in and always posting. I'm not exactly sure when this became part of the social contract, but I know I'm in breach.

I feel a little guilty about it. But only just a little. And less so since my last phone call to my mom. I apologized to her for not calling more often, and I tried to explain that I spend most of the day teaching and administrating people from all over the world at my job, and then I come home, grab the kids, goof off with them for awhile, then cook dinner, then clean up and strap them into bed, and then after that, you can stick a fork in me because I'm done. Talked out, fully-expressed and socialized to a crisp. At the end of the day, I don't have the energy to blab electronically. I'm ready to drink a tall boy and watch It! The Terror From Beyond Space.

This I explained to my mom.

And she said, "You're entitled."

Thanks, Ma.