I'm a terrible person, and here's how I know: I scrolled through my email inbox tonight and found many, many messages that I wish I had answered but didn't. That made me feel terrible, and it made me feel I didn't deserve to have people write to me at all. Which made me feel worse, because maybe people will stop writing. That would be awful.
It's not that I don't have a boatload of excuses. There's been a lot on my plate lately, and I know it. If I'm a couple of weeks late paying bills, it's not surprising that I've had emails at least that old, sitting there idly waiting for me to take action.
When I had this revelation and counted the messages in the inbox (260), I was still working, at 8:30 pm. I shouldn't even have been taking a break then, because I had four of five more checks to write and it was getting dark. I didn't want to have to turn on the lights around my desk, just so I could keep working. I try to be finished (or as finished as I ever get) by the time the daylight fades away.
Most of the 260 were notifies from other journals, which tells you just how isolated I've become these days. I never used to fall this far behind. There must be something wrong with me that I write these wordy entries day after day and yet don't have time to keep up with people whom I like and respect and who actually have something to say. And imagine how far behind I must be on journals that don't notify. It's disgraceful.
I'd issue a blanket apology to everyone I've been neglecting, but that doesn't seem enough. If you're here, you probably know most of what's been going on anyway, so an apology is superfluous. I am sorry, though, and I'll definitely try to do better.