This post may or may not address the several volumes of long-winded questions left by fellow Wordsmiths, well-wishers and detractors:
Resumption to a normal life began fifteen days ago. As you are aware this carries with it some serious baggage by way of responsibility that I had not encountered previous to my existence as a carpenter or baggage handler.
The three-quarter acre property where I rest my head at night has demanded more of my time than I originally gave it credit for: native (free-range) birds scratch at my eyes each morning with a demand of their own, to be fed. I rue the day (August 1st) I thought it a good idea to 'simply sprinkle some seeds' in the bird house I had acquired as part of the house purchase agreement.
The '60s 'beyond shagpile' carpet mocked me one time too many, heralding the late night stabbing, slashing and removal of said fucking carpet last night. Coincidentally, the frown on mine face was turned upside down at the precise moment the pine floorboards glistened into view, skewing plans to reinvigorate the hallway and two of the three bedrooms with flooring of a woolen disposition. Mrs Kaufman and I were unanimous in going with the as-is option instead.
Work has centred on makeshift roleplaying at one of the University of Adelaide's several departments of Englishizing: playing Sally one day, Keith the next, Sue and Bob simultaneously the day after that...until the distinct possibility of playing the lead role of myself come Monday and Tuesday of the week yonder was posted on the corkboard of perhapses for all to see.
With whispers of free mental health checks permeating through the hallowed corridors and byways it's no wonder that my teeth are itching from the anticipation of enabling myself a hearty bite of the cherry.
Still no Internet connection.