It's getting to be a bit overwhelming.
The very stylish Ghost Of A Flea linked to me (pardon the accidental rhyme) today as well as, uh, I didn't quite get the name, so I'll call him A Disgruntled American In Belgium. (Not that I can blame him. Heh. That sort of rhymes, too.)
I feel an odd sense of responsibility. There are literally dozens of people scattered around the world (Domo arigato, Japan!) waiting with bated breath on my latest effusion.
I just want to say: Mommmmy! Hellllllp meeeee!
Actually, it's probably the kick in the ass that I needed. The thought that people are actually reading what I write -- and this is somehow different than journalism or fiction writing, at which I've had (very) minor success -- is invigorating.
When I go to sleep knowing that the big old world is rolling over and that some Spaniard will soon turn on his computer and laugh and laugh -- well, it makes it all worthwhile.
Even if he isn't reading me. A laughing Spaniard is worthy in and of itself.