This is my fourth day of being sick. I’ve had snot running from my nose and tears out of my eyes and an earache. I’ve destroyed 2 boxes of tissues. Made a mountain of mucus filled white tissues on the opposite end of the couch. I fear I may need to take a day off just to recover from being this fucking sick.
So gross. In a year’s time, I think this is the 4th time I’ve been sick—and not a little sick, a lot sick.
On the up side, I drew out the whole fair grounds for the D&D campaign.
I have dreams:
I’ve had some disturbing dreams of late. Being chased. Attacked. Death and mayhem. This last one was so fucking disturbing. One part of it I’m not going to share. I’m not superstitious, but it’s bad juju. Worse than being chased around the neighborhood by an albino python, being bit by said python, and pulling out the teeth of said python.
I couldn’t tell you what’s up with my subconscious. Whatever happened to my afternoon teas with Neil Gaiman?
So I wrote maybe 200 words of story this weekend. So far behind. So. Far. I did not finish a short fic in April. UGH. Defeatist thinking won’t get me anywhere. I am writing. Obviously, getting super sick was not part of the plan and I should NOT get myself down for needing to sleep 14 hours a day and still feeling tired as I struggle to re-hydrate the massive fluid loss.
To try and be productive, I’m going to read today. One, a novel written in 1778. We’ll see if it’s any good. It may provide me with inspiration. I also need to read the D&D guide books—I want to better understand the rules and how shit works. I want to be a good DM! I also need to set up the entire adventure, flesh out the fun. I’ve begun to suspect my group won’t make it out of the springtime faire they’re starting out in—that’d be okay. But I need to be prepared if they DO make it out of the faire.
Anywho. I hope my all-of-two readers take care and NOT catch this awful cold.