Blah-g post

I'd totally missed that November was the month for blogging every day until Jamie mentioned that she'd finished up. Of course I felt I'd missed out on something, because although I haven't got a novel in me, I like to yap. So I thought, Aw, what the hell, I'll write every day in December, because there's always plenty of winter fun to commentate on. But I missed yesterday driving up in the snow to Columbus (snow is pretty; driving in it at night with five kids is... hairy) and today I feel drugged and achy, like something's creeping up on me about to seize me in its unhealthy grip and I can only stave it off by going to bed with Nero Wolfe and tea and crackers. So I depart, but not before I give (for about the fourth time on this blog) a topical link to my favorite piece ever of my own composition, which is not actually my own creation but merely a pastiche of Evelyn Waugh, written sometime when I was really sick and not just feeling weird.