I’m not dead, just thinking.
The story goes that when Bill Gates was a kid, his parents set up the basement as his private apartment, installing an intercom to reach him. One day his mom repeatedly called him on the intercom to come to supper but he didn’t answer. When he finally came upstairs, his mother asked him why he didn’t answer. He is said to have replied, “I was thinking, Mother. You should try it some time.”
Later his parents took him to a shrink. After the requisite interviews, the psychiatrist said, “He is the way he is and he isn’t going to change. Learn to live with it.”
Moral of this story: I’m thinking; I’ll write when I’m ready. Hint: Currently I am working on a letter to Upstate Medical Hospital’s medical director. I have concluded that God made me intolerant of medications so that I can stand outside the medical industry and comment on it. I mean, seriously, what have I got to lose?