I’ve been trying to write this, whatever this will be, for days. Usually, writing for the Wave is cathartic. Easy. I gather some thoughts, toss them in a blank document, mix them up a bit, and presto, a coherent column! But today, my luck has run dry. I think I broke my writing organ. Y’know, that little squishy thing between your parietal lobe and temporal lobe that makes words into sentences and sentences into columns for the newspaper. Earlier today, a handyman with a wispy goatee stopped by to inspect my broken closet door.