But who's counting?

Four years. Readers have come and gone, and I myself have waxed and waned in enthusiasm for this ceaseless task, appreciating the hits for the microscopically trivial successes they are and shrugging off the misses as just a part of doing this every single day. I think my handwriting has gotten better and then worse again in this time. The sheer number of sandwiches eaten, sleeps deprived, acts of arson fantasized, and romantic interests disappointed...it all starts to blur together, then permutate in a primordial ooze of stick figures and jokes without punchlines.

I forgot where I was going with that, but in conclusion: I'm not ready to stop yet. I hope to keep engaging with you, dear reader, in this lengthy and inconsistent futile journey. Thanks for sticking around this long.