The Return of the King

Well, what's it been? Six months? Five? Nice long break. What's happened since then? Election, election, assassination, violence, steroids, Jamie Lynn, writers' strike. So nothing important? Good, The Common Man is glad he didn't miss anything.

Like many of you, The Common Man made several New Years resolutions. He is going to lose weight. He is going to be a better person. He is going to get at least 6 hours of sleep a night. And, finally, he will get his ass back to writing.

It's not that The Common Man hasn't been busy for these past months. Far from it. He's been teaching, and caring for the boy, and trying to run a house. It's been tiring, especially since The Boy has learned first to crawl, then to walk, then to run all over the house. The living room is now wholly dedicated to The Boy and his funtastic ability to get into trouble wherever he is. All the nicknacks are gone. Only the sofa, a chair, the stereo (35th anniversary Sesame Street CDs aren't going to play themselves), and a coffee table remain. The rest of the room is packed with toys. Cars, phones, stuffed animals, books. There is much to do when you are 13 months old, apparently.

But The Common Man doesn't need to tell you about tiring, for he is one of you, and you are surely tired too. It's a tiring world in which you and The Common Man live together. There are still just 24 hours in a day, but there is so much more content that fills that time. Even when you are not working, you are seemingly doing work: reading and researching topics online, cataloguing the opinions of others, deciding what content you will spend your precious few minutes perusing before you need to dive back into work. The Common Man knows how that is. He sympathizes. And he will be there to help you muddle through. Or at least to help you waste 10 more minutes reading his blog.

The Common Man is home. Go get his pipe and slippers, walk him to his La-z-boy, and he shall hold court.