Novel Stats:
| Words Today | 0 |
| Words Total | 98,500 |
Short Story Stats:
| Written |
0
|
| Submitted |
0
|
| In Circulation |
0
|
| Rejected |
0
|
| Sold |
0
|
Wednesday,
January 26, 2005
I'm not a well clown
Judging from the body aches that make me feel like I've been worked over by a pair of London enforcers with billyclubs, I think I have the flu. I emailed El Jefe to say I'd be late, because I wanted to give the ibuprofen and Sudafed a chance to kick in -- when that never happened, I forced myself to get dressed and made it all the way to the door before I realized I was about to fall over.
Mm, that's not good. So I went back upstairs, checked my work mail -- no emergencies. Good enough for me. I took my pants off and went back to bed, although even that was kinda pointless. You KNOW you're sick when you hurt too much to sleep.
So here I sit, hot and achy, with Lyndon ready to dash out and get me something should my appetite come back (no sign of that so far -- bleah). The only upside of the afternoon was gabbing with an editor buddy of mine on the phone about an anthology and comparing medical ailments -- she wins, by the way.
Have I mentioned recently that I hate being sick? I hate being sick.