she may know how to ruin a pair of cowboy boots

But 3Jake, concerned that I am sounding burned out, has sent me a very sweet pep talk via email. It sort of boils down to calling anyone who doesn't believe in me an old fucker, but then, there is something very sweet about that. I suspect that I will still be laughing in my sleep.

One of her questions, though, has helped me sort out part of what's going on here. I can't believe I didn't realize this sooner, but then my synapses appear to be on holiday. Or I would have seen this before.

My blood chocolate level is dangerously low.

You laugh (well, hopefully), but I'm completely serious. Due to geographic isolation and a more or less complete lack of accessible shops that are open when I'm not in a session, I am not consuming nearly as much sugar as I'm accustomed to. Living in the Land Of Ten Thousand Corner Stores as I do, I tend to eat a lot of candy bars. And chocolate croissants from the Van Ness Food Company. And Double Chocolate Milano cookies. Time for me to face it: I'd save a lot of money and time if I just installed taps for hot and cold running chocolate. The first night I was here we went to Wal-Mart and I bought a bag of Dove dark chocolate miniatures that I hoped would last two weeks of late-night writing; they ran out by Saturday, and all the sugar I've had since then was Monday's childish orgy in Mystic (ice cream, eclair, tastes of fudge). Well, and a few cookies at lunch two days ago.

Is it possible that I am undergoing withdrawal?