Your mad admin is increasing in age. This is true of every human not already dead, of course. But with increase of age comes an appreciation of new sources of pleasure.

For instance, I have a nigh unholy glee in taking a nap. Just wandering back to the bedroom and throwing myself down on the bed for a quick bout of slumbering. I’ve always been a huge proponent of sleep, but now that I can sleep pretty much whenever I want, it’s pure joy.

I might be aged enough now to also find shaking my canes at people to be enjoyable. I will perform rigorous testing and report any future results.

Okay, so your mad admin has not been posting much of late. As per usual, of course. It’s not like there are any actual readers that must be placated with content.

I just don’t really have anything to say. Well, that’s not completely accurate. I have things I could say. I do have opinions on whatever the topic of the day is. (Ever notice that there always seems to be a topic of the day?) I just don’t think my saying it is worth the bother.

I seem to not suffer from what most people, at least online, seem to suffer from: the narcissistic idea that my every fleeting thought is of such monumental importance that it simply must be shared with the entirety of the world. Because my thoughts aren’t that important. They mostly consist of things like “I can’t quite reach that spot on my back that’s itching,” or perhaps “I wish I could still eat my way through an Arby’s like I could when I was young.” Hardly earth-shattering.

So… I don’t. Say anything. I only come here to write something once in a while, to prove the domain isn’t inactive, so that someone doesn’t steal it, which would make me have to get a new email address, which is quite bothersome.

I suppose, as your Mad Admin, I should make one last post here at the end of the year.

I still don’t really have anything to say, though. That seems sort of strange, I know; everywhere else on the internet are people pouring out every thought (or more often, emotion) that enters their head. I fail to see much point in that.

I’m sure some head shrinker somewhere would claim I’m depressed and want to pump me full of drugs. I am not depressed though — I am merely melancholy.

Next year I might start posting a bit about anime again. That’s unlikely to cause anyone to hunt me down and eliminate me. I mean, it’s not a guarantee or anything. The odds are low, but not zero.

I have completed the sale of my childhood home.

My parents purchased the home before it was built. Our family moved in when it was completed — I was eight months old. Both my parents lived out the rest of their lives there. As adults my sisters moved in and out as their various relationships waxed and waned. I lived there through college and my first job afterwards. Moved out for that second job and never moved back. I visited, but never stayed there again more than a few days in a row. But it belonged to my family for over 50 years.

From my share of the proceeds I will soon be, for only the second time in my adult life, completely out of debt.

But I can’t go home again.