I hate sick. Especially when it's not really sick, it's just "allergied" or "unexplainable sore throat" or "grossness". It makes me want to curl up in the recliner and never get out ever (EVER) again. And so, in between laundry and cleaning the house and taking care of Littles and making home-made pizza and having friends over for lunch...that's what I've done today. When the Man got home I moved to the couch so that we could sit next to each other and work on our computers and hate the "not really sick" together. He's great for commiseration.
This blog post is not about having something to write, it's just about writing. Because I felt the need. I have some editing work I could be doing, but that would interfere with the wallowing. And the writing. Because editing is not really writing, now is it? Though most of the time I suppose in my case, those who can't (or are too lazy to) write, edit. It makes me feel useful. And on that note, I'm going to go put myself to good use, pull up that file, and edit that darn cover letter like my life depends on it.