The best-laid schemes o’ mice an ‘men, Gang aft agley.
Robert Burns, “To A Mouse”
Monday started with a vow to be more organized and focused in my work this week, and it paid off. Got some work done on the WIP, then got some work in on organizing book appearances (one yes, one no, but at least I can cross off that note to myself) and then put in eight hours on the “day job.” It’s in quotation marks because I do most of it at night.
Tuesday was spent not throwing up.
I haven’t thrown up in more than 40 years, seriously. I was still in school the last time I upchucked. But, man, Tuesday was close to breaking my streak, and I have no idea why. My stomach was on fire, my head was aching. It came out of nowhere and it laid me up for most of the day. Maybe it was something I ate, except I didn’t eat anything unusual, might have been a bug, but no one else in the house was struck. A bug of some kind? On’y 12 hours long.
But, oh, what a 12 hours.
So I didn’t get anything done. This morning was spent mostly taking care of work stuff that should have been done yesterday. Then I wrote this. And then I’ll get back to work. Because work doesn’t do itself.