I haven’t checked my Blah Blah e-mail in a few months (sorry, if you’ve tried to get ahold of me), and now I’m scared to check it.

I’m scared that I’ll open it up and I’ll have thousands of unread e-mails… most of them from angry Medieval dwarves with axes… riding on skateboards… and singing about spandex.

It’s irrational, I know, but it haunts me all the same.

And I don’t even get that much e-mail coming through really, just enough to get really clogged up if I don’t check it in a few months.  Not like these guys who declared e-mail bankruptcy last year.

I think I’m less bankrupt and more anti-social when it comes to my e-mail.  It’s not on purpose, though…  It’s just how it has worked out lately.

All this e-mail stuff reminds me of Brother Andrew, the famous God Smuggler, who refused to even have a phone in his office because he didn’t want to be distracted.  Sometimes I think that’d be nice.  Until I try to order pizza with my telegraph.

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