Meat Sweats

Word Search: Refuge of the Contagious

You know you’re in bad shape when you break out in the meat sweats with the mental and physical effort it takes to do a word search. That was me the past two days: a sweating mass of green phlegm. It’s why I’ve decided not to kick myself for breaking my 90+ day chain in the Magic Spreadsheet. I thought of writing while I was down sick. I really did. But plunking down 400 words?  My body. was sending me a firm “rest, you jackass” message. So I listened, for a change of pace.

And today was my first day back at work after all that phlegmy, green joy. Mainly I was focused on remaining upright and not making a royal cockup of anything I touched. Bear in mind that I’m still getting the meat sweats and my sinuses feel like they’re filled with burning This makes for a very, very long day. On a happy note, my direct supervisor treated the department to OJ and Cup of Soup. This made me disproportionately happy, and I am sending many good karma vibes her way.

This Photo Was Brought To You Via Flagrant Disregard To Cell Phone Policy

One thing I did manage to do while I was out sick that fell under the productive adulting category was review my incomplete NaNoWriMo rewrite from a year back. I abandoned it because, well, it felt idiotic. Turns out, it’s not. Actually, it’s kind of good. A long way from done, mind you, but not the steaming pile of horse manure that I had imagined it to be when I trunked it.

Funny what a little time and distance will do for your inner critic.

I think this weekend I’m going to spend a little time putting together a gameplan for finishing a proper draft of this novel. It’s time to stop being so damn self-critical and get some shit done for a change. I’m not going to worry about word count so much at the present, just getting back into a good working groove. 

Happy weekend.

Hell Week and OTC Fun

Holy Week, or as musicians think of it, Hell Week, is at long last over. No more wall-to-wall rehearsals and performance for this gal, not for a while at least. Naturally, my body has responded to this newfound free time by producing a lovely snap-crackle-pop in the ol’ lungmeats. Because of course it did.

                I’d probably be responding with a hissy fit right now, only I’m pretty sure I’d just wind up passed out on the floor doing a passable impression of a yule log, and I’ve sworn off all Yule log impressions for 2016.

                This situation, I suspect, may require a bit of low-key The Magicians binge watching, perhaps under the influence of a soupcon of Nyquil later on. I’m told 2016 is a fantastic year. (On a non-related note, I am not quite sure how Nyquil is legal while marijuana is still kinda meeehhh in Illinois. Not saying I’ve ever partaken during my wild and reckless twenties, but purely theoretically, Mary Jane never packed three quarters of the wallop of that special purple cold pill.)

                This Easter was extra feisty. I managed to leave my coat, my phone, and my house keys at my cousin’s on Saturday. Then my husband locked us out of the house on Sunday, requiring a super-exciting break-in to our own home. Adventure! Excitement! I think next year I’ll take a pass!

                On an unrelated note, April 20^th is fast approaching. That’s when I take the plunge and do a little standup. Boy oh boy, do I ever feel unprepared. There’s not exactly a checklist for what to do to get ready for something like that, and that would totally make me feel better. I like lists. They make me feel like life isn’t spiraling rapidly out of control. Of course, that statement implies there was some sort of control in my life in the first place, which is debatable.

                Anyhow, I have a few thousand words piled up for the night in question. Hopefully a few of them don’t suck. And even more hopefully I won’t just get up in front of about ten people and have a massive, crippling panic attack. Though, that could be kind of funny, in a morbid sort of way.

                Probably not.