10 pounds of poop in a 5 pound bag

i’ve probably used this title before.  

i’ll probably use it again.

 with a snippet of one route remaining, the survey season is winding down. unfortunately, I now realize my post-owling letdown has become an annual occurrence.  cause and effect…easily recognizable, even without the degree in rocket science. 

really though, I hate when this happens.  of course, there are more pervasive issues at play here, and owling has little to do with them.  fact of the matter is that I am prone to depression and because of it, i seek escape.  ironically, the escape i seek is owling and owling leads to more depression.

will the circle be unbroken?

 yah baby.  it’s called crown royal. 

 actually, i don’t resort to alcohol for escape anymore…okay, maybe just a little.  that’s one of the advantages of getting older…you can apply common sense to many aspects of life.  plus…there’s always meth up at the ski hill.

kidding. 

interrupted sleep, an appetite that has vacated the premises (save for ben and jerry’s) and the return of a myopic worldview.  through acquired wisdom though, i now realize the fix.  i can  either: a) reduce the amount of poop; or, b) get a bigger bag.

coming soon:  the return to nonsense.