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Worst. Monday. Ever…

Water Bottle

I’d get out there and dig my grave in the garden, so I can push up some daisies next spring. But that takes energy, at least enough to get out of the bed and crawl outside. That’s not happening. Nor do I feel particularly encouraged to write tomorrow. I ate some crackers, at least. And drank several bottles of sparkeldy warter; doesn’t that count for something? NaNoWriMo can start without me. Shoot, they could use the head start, I’m sure.

If only it felt like progress. First, some more Nyquil; then back in the rack for some more comatose dreaming about my story…

Too Sick to Die, Too Sleepy to Eat Chiles…

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