This is me this week, being plundered by a really terrible virus. It's not norovirus, turns out, but something similarly sinister. It may look like it's winning, but it's not! I'm the one getting all the sleep and the fabulous bikini-ready figure, so, joke's on you, moronvirus.
Joke's kind of on me, as well, if we're keeping score, because I did separate my shoulder last week and was quietly excited to surf the Vicodin express, but that was a total sham. They just make me throw up more.
Unfortunately, this really hit the breaks of my writing projects, since I can't look at a screen without feeling woozy. And there are some killer writing projects going on right now. On the blog side, I've been trying to write the story of Will and his visit....(as well as the story of vert fest, getting seattle-freezed to the point of social hypothermia, and a hellacious trip to Ikea) but my blogging attempts feel painfully like a 100 year old woman trying to stitch together an elaborate quilt with shaky Parkinson's hands. I'll write three sentences and then have to nap for three days. Or throw up again. Speaking of-