The good thing about writer’s block is, when writing hundreds of stories, people will forgive you for intermittent breaks without content. Some will wonder why nothing’s popping up in their feeds. An answer I posit it that most people can’t write longer-form stories because they don’t have the time or patience, so they enjoy when others do it for them.

That’s why authors get book advances and screenwriters get paid for outlines. In general, you know the work will be good and are banking on its future enjoyment value.

I’m not sure blogs have the same rationale. You’ll have to let me know.

I did write a few things after Wet Ass Pumpkins.

I finished my concert rankings.

And created an all-time live setlist.

But that was it. January was drier than last year, even if it started out quite wet.

My Healthy Hammer series stopped with an August entry titled Fatigue.

I thought I was working too hard. Working at home, working at the bar, working out almost every day. Just sheer exhaustion.

Oh, and I got COVID.

In hindsight that was the main part.

Man, did that knock me out without making me realize I was being knocked out. A few days of having shortness of breath and severe fatigue … and then it was gone.

I was definitely one of the luckier ones. No loss of smell or taste. Oh, I’m also not dead. So, there’s that.

But it wiped out a big part of my drive to do those daily routines and workout plans. After months of following pre-planned routines or challenges — and seeing no significant results — I stopped.

Gyms opened back up and I got back into a little powerlifting streak. The ol’ bench struggled at first, but it got better. And then the bars shut down again.

I finished my outstanding material and then waited. Surely something would happen once everything opened back up, right? I mean, I got the cops called on me the first night after the first shutdown.

Not that I wanted to happen again. Well, not for a third time since reopening.

No such luck.

Almost a month under our belts and nothing to show for it. Either people have become more respectable, or those people spent the last few months finding other properties more willing to allow their drunk antics.

My money is on the latter.

Are there no more fools for me to exploit?

Of course not. They’re just hidden from view, waiting for their moment to strike.

Like the Underminer from The Incredibles.

There was one guy who we had to ban since reopening. An odd fellow who wore white and blue contact lenses like the White Walkers from Game of Thrones, albeit given more material.

He “wasn’t terrible” is the best I can describe him. He ordered a round of Vernor’s to a group of women at 6 pm on a Saturday. He then refused to follow mask directions so we kicked him out. An hour later he was on our doorstep begging for a second chance. Well, technically a third as he spilled the beans about getting tossed from another bar down the road.

He was also “broke. I’m broke. Just broke,” before turning his pockets inside out.

He showed up each of the next two weeks.

Maybe we should start a collection pot to get him a hearing aid.

There’s only one more man of note. Due to the decreasing capacity, some brave would-be patrons are being left out in the cold, literally. After waiting patiently for over an hour, it was clear he and his friends weren’t going to reach the promised land. I informed him that we opened early on Sunday if he really wanted a spot sooner than later.

“Sunday? The Lord’s Day?” he said. “Happy Birthday, Jesus, sorry your party’s so LAME!”