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…
Recent Comments