In which I'm saved at the final possible second from a thoroughly pointless post

I cannot lie: the weekend was a stresser. I managed to sleep an awful lot, but also spent a heap-load of time worrying about a very major personal issue that I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to get into on the World Wide Web. It'll certainly all come out eventually, but for the moment I'm on the fringes of a situation that's a bit too painful and sensitive to discuss with cyberspace. So I won't.

So don't ask.

Or, heck, ask, but don't be offended when I keep mum.

Yes, this post was pointless.
...


Oh, wait, nevermind. Gobs of well-wishing to my Grandpa Spellman, who's going under the knife shortly. It's an aortic aneurism, I'm told, and it needs to be dealt with, like, yesterday. Good luck, Grandpa.

So I guess that is pretty important.

Whew.