...I've been experiencing a new form of guilt.

It's blog guilt. The guilt the comes of not updating your blog for almost two weeks. Neglecting it to the the point that a full third of my followers are giving me shit about it in the comments section of my last blog. Do I have any excuses? Sure i do. But none anyone would find satisfactory. Such is the nature of an excuse, the instant it becomes satisfactory, it graduates to the level of 'rational explanation' never to look back. But in the interest of satisfying your curiosity, here's the best I can do.
I've been busy. Busier, I suppose. It's not that I've had my attention completely engaged for every waking hour of the past 11 days. But between new job and often leaving new job to go immediately do something else i feel that my time has been spoken for. Of course that doesn't mean I couldn't have just stayed up and extra hour to write, if only a little. but lately the balance of my free time has been spent not at home.
I have a lot of friends who are busy, and I am not envious of them. I'm sure I would grow exhausted if my time were so regimented, and would hate the feeling that by taking any of it back for myself I'd be stealing from my own temporal collection plate. Nor do I think much of the idea of racing from one event to the next and wonder if such behavior is a symptom of the fear of being alone with one's thoughts. That's a pretty bold assumption. And I'm rarely so quick to psychoanalyze anyone given my own neuroses but I am the only person I know who goes on four mile walks with just my thoughts to keep me company. The only person I know for whom that alone time is so important. I'm sure the people around me see that behavior as it's own symptom of something in me.
This has all gone and gotten much deeper that I intended. What started as a brief mea culpa about my laziness in keeping up with this writing has become a whole different beast. Ooops. Sorry, I'd hoped to keep this one mercifully brief and as far outside of my weird mind as possible. No such luck. Let me hastily conclude this by saying, I intend on sticking with this, writing here. Hopefully soon this will be my alone time. And will become as valuable and as necessary to me as those four mile walks.

...foldin' t-shirts.

So it's come to this. Only a handful of posts so far and I'm so devoid of ideas that I'm forced to blog about homemaking tips. Fear not, as this one doubles as a guaranteed-to-get-you-looked-at party trick.
Does your current t-shirt folding technique leave something to be desired? Than look no further than 'the Gravity Fold', and let Isaac Newton fold your t-shirts for you. (Note: Newton has been dead for 282 years and can't so much as fold a protein let alone your laundry.)
Since moving back to Cincy from New York I've missed by-the-pound, drop off laundry service more than just about anything else. I could drop it off in the morning, go home and go to bed, and then pick it up, clean and folded, before I had to go to work at night. And they almost never lost my socks! Since then I've been schlepping my canvas bag of dirties over to friends' houses to clean them, but never wanting to fold my dry clothes until I got home always resulted in a wrinkly, unrecognizable heap of fabric. But now, at least where my tees are concerned I have a new, high-concept, ultra-modern method for folding, which is really more performance art than chore. I'm saving minutes upon minutes which I can then use to blog about all of the minutes I've saved. Genius.
While some of the less cultured of my friends may look at how, with a deft flick of the wrist, I transform a pile of cast-off Jersey knit into a sharp cornered rectangle of retail ready perfection, and deride it as witchcraft. They fail to see the natural beauty of my technique. Just as the origami master will turn squares of paper into birds and all kinds of other shit. So to do I, with grace bordering on transcendence, make the ordinary into art.
Please observe the above video to see for yourself, presented in highly accurate Japanese for accuracy's sake.