Apologies

I'm sorry about all the brief posts lately.  I'm sure some of you are thinking that your old pal the Solipsist is just phoning it in these days.  You'd be right.  I mean, I'm not literally phoning it in.  That would be silly: My typing fingers just will not respond to the telephone, no matter how many times I try calling them.  But I have been quite lazy.  I think I'm still adjusting to the move to new headquarters.  I almost feel jet-lagged, despite the fact that I moved all of fifteen miles away from the previous Solipsist Central.  I'm still adjusting to the commuting life, for example.  It's taken me two weeks to internalize the fact that the traffic report on the radio is no longer just an annoying obstacle standing in the way of the next Mumford and Sons song (and, seriously, folks: There ARE other bands out there, y'know?)--the traffic report is now something that has actual bearing on my life.

I've got about four weeks left in the semester.  I'm figuring that, if nothing else, the end of May should see at least a slight uptick in energy.  And in the meantime, I've no doubt that the Republican Party will engage in something unbelievably offensive soon enough.  That should be good for an energetic column or two.

Annnnnnd, We're Back

Any psychiatrist will tell you that moving is among the most stressful experiences a person can go through, right up there with death or divorce.  But psychiatrists will tell you anything. If you pay him enough, I imagine a psychiatrist would tell you that Canberra is the capital of Australia, or any other farcical thing.

What?  It is?  Really?!?  So why did I pay that psychiatrist. . . ?  Where was I?

Anyway, having already gone through one move and too many divorces to keep track of--I suspect I may mean that the other way around, but it's been a long couple of days--I can say that I look forward to death as probably the least stressful experience of the three.  Still, as unpleasant as the moving experience is--or as moving as the stressful experience is--there is definitely something pleasant about the completion of the process, especially when the place you move to represents an improvement over the place you moved from.  Such is certainly the case with the relocation of Solipsist Central.

The new headquarters features more space, quieter surroundings, and a view of the bay.  I've no doubt this will lead to tremendous improvements in the overall Solipsistic experience.  After all, there is nothing like water to inspire creativity.  Just ask Herman Melville.  Don't expect an answer: The man's been dead for 150 years, but ask him anyway.  Yes, the fresh ocean air will lead to tremendous literary feats: Expect greatness!  I will give you the Moby-Dick of the blogosphere.  Except, y'know, not quite so much about penguins.

Saturday

I've spent all day running about and getting very little accomplished.  Today's blog post is a metaphor for this situation.

See you tomorrow.

I Think I See What You're Saying. . .

Over the last few days, as I've dealt with moving-related issues, my posts have gotten shorter.  I've noticed that this has not led to a decline in readership.  If anything, I've noticed a slight uptick in the average number of pageviews.  So, if I am interpreting this correctly, I am writing for a group of followers who don't much care to read.

Good to know.

Here is a picture of a wombat.

Preparations Continue

Today I arranged the cable/phone/internet package at the new Solipsist Central.  The best part?  The stuff is going to be hooked up before we move in.  I take an inordinate amount of comfort in the fact that I theoretically won't miss a single episode of "Doctor Who"!  Is that pathetic?  Or endearing?  I'm going to go with endearing.

Movin' On

Solipsist Central will be relocating over the next few weeks, so the publication schedule may be a bit. . . erratic.  I plan to continue trying to post every day, but the posts may tend toward the brief, not to say terse, 'cause no one says "terse" in this day and age--sounds like the way Archie Bunker would pronounce "toys" or something--  Where was I?  Oh, yeah, so anyway, I'll try to keep up my steady flow of banter, but no promises.

Today, I had to go get our water service hooked up.  Really makes one nostalgic for New York City, I can tell you.  Do you know that New York City residents don't pay for water?  I mean, I suppose they do in the form of taxes and increased fees for parboiled "hot dogs," but no one gets an actual water bill.  Garbage pickup, too, is incorporated into the fabric of city life without involving extra payments from the local residents.  Thank you, Gambino crime family!

That was quite a culture shock when I moved out to California.  Water bills?  Garbage bills?  Doesn't that stuff just, y'know, happen?!?