Things have been really interesting since I took on these new responsibilities here at work, pushing a boulder up a hill. I’ve been in the kind of mental state that has caused me to write two or three updates to this site, read them back to myself, and archive them where no one else has to see. Sometimes, on the right night, they come out not so much as opinions as breaking up with entire groups of friends remotely.

Yesterday, my wife got held late at work, a computer virus, and jury duty. For the early part of the evening, I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach like I imagine you get if your work involves handling a lot of nitroglycerine. Everything’s fine, everything’s fine, just move a little more carefully. Actually, despite it all, the lady of the house was remarkably chipper; I was impressed. Years of being at her job may have finally brought her to a state of Charlie Brown Zen, where stupid b.s. is anticipated; there is a place reserved at the dinner table for it.

If any of you out there writes for the television shows Grey’s Anatomy, Desperate Housewives, or Heroes, I have a personal favor to ask of you. If you would, please find the person on your staff who bookends each and every episode with a voiceover that is written like it is a deep, profound reflection on Life and Fate and the Human Condition but is actually about f***-all and do something to get that person fired. Many of your shows are already not really welcome in my home as it is; that rote fortune-cookie gibberish is helping my mood in no way.