Here's a typical Sunday night at my house:
I am falling asleep on the couch in my Slanket, half-heartedly watching an 80s comedy involving either Richard Pryor or Eddie Murphy assuming someone else's identity, with predictably hilarious results.
Jeff nudges me, and I make a noise like a wounded elephant.
Jeff then says, "I think it's your bedtime."
"But I haven't blogged!" I moan.
"Let it go." Jeff says.
"Nooooooooo!" I whine. "I can't. My readers will think I abandoned them. Or died."
"Okay. Do you have anything to blog about?"
"Well... I reorganized my shoe tree. And I think I pulled a muscle in my butt."
"Go to sleep."
But! Obviously I have defied Jeff's orders because here I am, at 10:30, pulling a blog post out of my pulled-muscle ass, because I will always choose quantity over quality.
And you can quote me.