And lo, Cheyenne did come down from the strangely cold reaches of the north, muttering beneath sinusy breath that August was not supposed to be chilly, and said unto the masses “Take heart, gentle readers, for our illustrious editor has been laid low by a horrible pain in her right leg, this evil thrust upon her by an overzealous husband who is usually much more careful, and is currently a’bed, waiting out the long dark decades of her discomfort.

“She keeps this grand publication in her thoughts, and misses it dearly, and promises to return at such time that the pain has been bested and her offending husband has been flogged with a large wet noodle.”
And so saying, Cheyenne did turn his back on the world of screens and internet warmth, and with a wet hacking cough on his lips he trudged back north, there to await a potentially warm January.