I made the mistake of checking the ol' site meter just now, and was alarmed by it's striking resemblance to, shall we say, a cliff? Maybe one like in the Rocky Mountains? With the steeeeep sides and dangerous-looking craggy rubble-strewn bottom?
Which begs a question - where did you go, dear peoples?
Is the dropoff because I'm not providing a daily ration of Tiff lately and now y'all are so starved for my particular blend of humor and pathos and soul-baring excess and nipple stories that you've gone somewhere else for your fix, hoping that it's just as tasty and less filling?
Or, is it because the last thing I posted was so very offensive that it, in one fell swoop of the pen (yeah, OK, keyboard), completely turned off the small cadre of readers that actually visit this site, wondering why they ever chose to read the shameful secrets of this obviously very disturbed women in the first place?
Or, more horribly, perhaps, is it because what I put up for offer is so beyond crappy it's made you finally realize it's time to run screaming from any further sullying of brain cells better used to play "Chuzzle" or read FARK?
If so, I understand. Completely natural. Really.
Just, you know, I wonder.
If you were wondering and maybe feeling a tiny bit bad for me due to my full-on Tiffy-fit of Monday, here's an update - the veritable mountain of work I mentioned earlier this week is being chipped away, oh so slowly, by generous applications of panic, stress, adrenalin, caffeine, and 4:30 wake-up calls. I can almost see over the top of the "to-do" list and am lovingly anticipating the sliiiiide down the other side into the weekend. Mmmm, warm bed, I miss you so.