Clawing out the marrow

It's done. After the six zillionth hit on this blog dealing with the loss of digital extremities, I've excised mention of a certain lovely blonde eye-patched mermaidish celebrity's malformed appendages from my blog.

And I'm sitting here, well on my way to wasting another entire day, and I'm wondering: do I turn into a housebound depressive basement-lurking netsurfer when I get sick, or do I get sick because.....

Whatever.

Grumpy as hell and knowing I need some forest but unable to muster the will to go out the door. I'll go do some editing now to prove that I actually exist, but I ain't happy about it.

New set of rules to follow:

4 pints of water/day
Never more than 2 drinks, and then only red wine or beer -- enough of this trickily difficult to measure hard stuff.
Some form of physical movement every day.
No food after dinner.

It's stupid that I sit here, a wise man bristling with post-graduate degrees, knowing the inevitability of the changes that would ensue if I just followed those rules, yet just as certainly knowing how difficult it would be to do so.