No more sickness. I’m surrounded by tissue boxes and the sounds of heavy breathing. My husband says things like “I’m fine!” and then he coughs up a lung and staggers out of the room. Men are silly.
Both of the girls are sick and of course, Geoff’s mom is finally out of the hospital from her bout with pneumonia, so I’m eyeing all of them like enemy combatants. In my head, it’s like a weird video game. How do I survive at close range with the walking germ-emitters I hold so dear? And how do I do this without looking like I’m trying to do this—since mothers are supposed to think nothing of their own lives/health/well-being and dive in?
No sleep. I need sleep. Book due. Characters are getting very, very vocal about certain delays since they apparently do not: a) get sick, b) play video games or c) require sleep.
Time to step it up, Bernard. What would a successful, super creative Amazon do? She would retire to her writing hut, light candles and crank out three bestsellers before heading off to RT! (Yeah! How hard can it be, right?)
Okay. Now, where did I put my tea cup? Oh, man…I’m out of tea. This is bad.
Okay. I’m going cold turkey, everyone. Start praying for me. 😉
