I have to edit it, promote it, write the next book, maintain gainful employment so I can afford to do all of this promotional work, keep the house from falling to wrack and ruin, keep the kids from wrack and ruin and feed the pets so they don’t starve to death.  Because.  That would be bad.  I doubt that it’s do-able, but I will try.  Please send Drambuie and I’ll need my sense of humor back from whoever stole it while I was busy reorganizing my time slices.  Very funny, by the way.  Now give it back.  I’m going to need it for the next few months.

 

So here I am at rock bottom and starting to dig, pulling together a list out of entropy, my finite piece of infinite improbability, and hoping I can keep all of this in motion until I reach the restaurant at the end of the universe for a nice cup of tea.

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Continued from Page Three