. There's an opera called The Rake's Progress, about a man who gets lured away to the big city. Away from the innocence of the countryside. He leads a debaucherous life in the city and dies in an insane asylum.
My blog is short this morning because this rake (noun - a dissolute or profligate person, esp. a man who is licentious; roué) is busy doing some paid work (writing). I've been lured away to work for a big city client. I've forsaken my leaf rake for the intoxicating taste of money. I've turned my back on leisure, at least for two days, and I fully expect to pay for my debaucherous sins, likely in an insane asylum. Ha! They'll never take me to Jemseg!
I would ask that none of you report my transgressions to the Royal Order of Leisurologists; the society that I founded in 1992 which has an impressive membership of one.