Talk About Being Busy!

Okay, so you know that excuse everyone uses? The business factor? When you haven't gotten emails from a friend in months, and out of the blue, they answer one of your month-old ones right when you actually don't have the time to reply--"Hey, sorry I haven't been answering your emails, but I've just been so busy!"
Or when you've asked your brother or sister to do something for you, and half a year later, it finally gets done? Only after you've berated the living daylights out of him or her, of course. "Ease off, will ya'?" the sibling might say. "I've been really busy!"
"I've been busy" is that really lame excuse everyone knows is most often false.
It's also the number one excuse used in emails, phone calls, texts, conversations, or letters.
Alright, fine, I can't say that for sure (avoiding lawsuits and all that, you know)--there are no statistics in front of me--but I'm fairly certain that's the case.
However, you guys have to believe me when I say that I truly have been extremely busy over the summer. My family and I went to California for two weeks to visit family in early June, and I drove four and a half hours with my youth group to attend a church camp called The Edge (fabulous place, by the way) a week after we got back. Then, before I'd even had a chance to unpack the bottom layers of my suitcase from that trip, I traveled in a car packed with brothers (to "see me off") up to Converse College in Spartanburg, South Carolina for a two week writing program with the Governor's School for the Arts and Humanities.
It seemed almost as soon as I'd escaped the hamburger-smelling car (we'd stopped by McDonalds--Mom had given in to my brother's pleas) of the ride back from the Governor's School, than I was launched onto a hospital bed, stuffed in a gown that itched the back of my neck insanely. My combined tonsilectomy and adenoidectomy (adenoids are a tissue in the back of your nose, and in some cases, like mine, they swell up and have to be removed to enable proper breathing) went smoothly, but the aftermath of the surgery is forever stuck as a haze of pain, applesauce, plain vanilla ice cream, and pain medications in my memory.
Phew. Running out of typing "breathe" here.
Anyhow--oh snap. Never mind. Sorry, I've got to run. Ballet starts in half an hour, and it takes just about that to drive there. Bye! I'll post later.