Excuse? My avatar has been digitally crushed under a mounting pile of electronic mail and is unable to extract herself

What happened? what happened to all the writing?
Two things: I just finished writing all but a few pages of a 16 page magazine (I know, HUGE) about lung health -- that project alone has tapped all of my current creative energy, as my mind has been contorting itself over 15 hundred different ways to say BREATHING IN CAR EXHAUST IS BAD FOR YOU - hey! behold version 1501.
In addition (to my lack of inventive segues, see above re: creative tappage), March, and especially the last week and a half, has been the month of guilt induced email sent to my inbox. Subject headings have included "I'm sorry!" and "Shame on me..." These of course will contribute to next week's outbox full of replies entitled "Don't worry, we both suck." (Note to Hallmark: if you guys ever run out of greetings, my email is where it's at). All this influx of mail has resulted in the formation of a list -- as I must list anything that begins to overwhelm me everything -- of people I need to email back. The list has grown to a magnitude which, instead of making me feel less whelmed, makes me want to hide under a rock. SO... you may not hear from me until next week. And when you do, it may be just to receive one of my many many business cards in the mail. Business cards with which they went card-printing crazy last week and now I don't know what to do with them all. Solution: mail them to everyone I know. It's not as involved as email, but it will take a lot of stamps...
At this point I would like to point out to my mother that although I do have this looming pile of emails to dig my way out from under *spectacular grammar!*, she nonetheless does hear from me on a semi-regular basis.
As I have just now been emailed material for my upcoming sleep apnea article, I must leave. Huzzah!