The following entry was supposed to be on November 20, but life and head congestion had other intentions.

In honor of World Toilet Day, please direct your attention to the swooshing sound in the background. No, it’s not the inner workings of a commode fashioned by one Sir Thomas Crapper in the dark days following the Civil War. Rather it’s the sound of the economy–and what’s left of my 403B, Roth and IRA, whatever else account once had a bigger balance last year–down the drain.

Ah, cheers!

On a more sanguine front, the oft-mentioned graphic is almost ready. Also, this Sunday marks the last day of shooting. A mixed blessing really, because everyone involved–read, everyone’s spouses and girlfriends–is happy about the heavy lifting nearing completion. Unfortunately one spouse in particular must deal with a few nights of her husband editing footage. My condolences to Leslie in advance. But the drop dead date for the multimedia piece is December 3, so there is a definitive end to her suffering.

And she will not toil wholly alone.

According to weather forecasts, the high temperature for Sunday is 37 degrees and a 15 mph wind; that makes for some frosty outdoor filming. Secretly, I think the video guy finds this prospect hysterical, since he’ll be in a thick coat holding the camera, whilst I and my cohorts pretend it’s comfortable in long sleeve shirts and jeans. Often I have suspected he rather fashions himself a more comical Rob Zombie–a man notorious for filming in the freezing climes at the consternation of his actors.

Unfortunately all this fun(!) comes at a price. Between being sick still and the fact there is only one day to get everything in the can and rest up, I had to opt out of visiting an old friend. He has a two-year old son I have never met, a new house I have never seen, and the perfect wife I have not spoken to since their wedding.

Yeah, I’m feeling neglectful now. And old.