Okay, Diane. I get it. I’m lazy. Using writing as an excuse to get out of doing anything else. Poor Musette, the true writer of the household out there scalding her arms away. I guess I’m looking to write something brilliant, but I don’t know what that means anymore. I guess I’m looking to become a better person, to pass some sort of test. Save the family. But I don’t know what that means anymore either.