Face Plant
Remember last week? Remember when I blogged about going full-time as a writer? I was both excited and nervous all bundled up into a tiny propeller that I was going to use to shoot forward into this new adventure. Does that sound familiar?
It should.
Day one went swimmingly. I got up on time. I exercised. Twice. I wrote. I did marketing. I did chores. My plotting didn’t go as well as I had wanted, but by the end of the day I looked at all of the items checked off of my to do list, and I basked in the glory. I even went to bed at a reasonable hour.
Unbeknownst to me, my body was fighting off an insidious alien attack.
That’s right, tiny microbes carrying little strings of death had breached my outer defenses and were slowly but surely overwhelming my cells.
I woke up on day two feeling cranky and sore. The cranky I shrugged off to exercising first thing in the morning, and being sore I attributed to going to Kempo class the night before after I’d already done some kicking and punching and such earlier that morning. So I ignored the cranky, tied not to throw my computer across the room as it did 50 minutes of updates before I could get going in the morning and ate the last three chocolate covered cinnamon bears. You know, to put them out of their misery.
The morning was rough. I ran some errands at lunch, and about halfway through my department store run, I started to feel a little off. Probably a stupid cold, I told myself. It didn’t stand a chance against my super-awesome immune system.
During the afternoon I got one chapter written, but when I went back to plotting, I couldn’t think. After a bit I figured out that was because instead of my usual state of being cold, I was burning up from the inside out.
I powered through making dinner (sorry, honey) and by the time my hubby came home I’d been lying on the couch for an hour under my favorite fleece Star Wars blanket doing my best not to moan. Everything hurt. I thought I might spontaneously combust. Worst of all, my stomach was pissed.
Why my digestive track had to take the microbial attack so personally is beyond me, but I spent the next 48 hours down. It took everything I had to write that Flash Fiction story last week. (I promise, they’ll get better) I was a slave to my distance to a toilet. And considering my candy-loving computer programming husband was complaining about the incredible smells that I was producing, you can imagine how bad it was.
So, I got in a day and a half of being a full-time writer before I face planted. Which means I started over this week. Not going to lie, it was much harder this time around. Last week I was ready to dive in, this week all I wanted to do was drop my healthy eating and drown myself in ice cream. But, not to worry, I won’t do that. I have stories to tell!
Did anyone else get the flu? My immune system is usually very tough—it chewed up the swine flu and spit it out in about twelve hours a few years ago—but this was bad. If you have had it or get it, you have my sympathies! Stay hydrated and feel free to cry.
