It's Always the Old Dogs That Suffer

A couple of days ago I received this impassioned plea from the Old Dog via e-mail:

Hey, yours is one of the only 2 or 3 blogs that I bother to look at at all anymore, and you haven't posted since Sept. 27th?

I know that we've been a little out of touch lately, but WHO ARE YOU, and what have you done with Josh?

- Joe

I too am wondering why I'm sucking it at the whole blogging thing since I moved back to Illinois. Here are my thoughts: I really don't have much to say. Believe it or not, there is little to nothing going on right now.
Okay, that's a bullshit excuse. Having zilch to write about has never stopped me before, but I just haven't had the drive to sit down and hammer out anything (other than KfS NFL picks) lately.

I think the real problem is the stupid fucking smoking ban.
No not that one. The one in my apartment.

My old routine was to sit down in front of the computer with a bourbon on the rocks and a cigarette and bang out nonsense 'til my hearts content. When we moved into the new place, I let The Girl talk me into going "smoke free" so that everything in our house wouldn't reek of stale tobacco smoke. I can't drink bourbon without a smoke, and I can't write without the whiskey. That was my routine. Now it's been dismantled. That's probably why I never wrote anything while I was staying at the parents' place either. Without a smoke and a rye on the rocks, blogging just seems kinda pointless. I just don't have the motivation to sit down and write anything.
That's it, but at least our drapes smell nice.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going out to the patio to have a smoke before the thunderstorm I hear in the distance hits.