I took the entire weekend off and it was wonderful. The weather was hot, muggy, and stank of fresh asphalt so I stayed inside. I read Jane Austen and Dorothy Sayers in front of the AC with a glass of lovely iced tea beside me and I could actually feel my brain recovering from the extra work and stress of last week. (I had to cover for the office mgr while she was on vacation, plus I had some formatting/promo issues pop up. The technical side of Indie publishing is going to send me to the Happy Home, I sweartagod.) Back to normal hours at the ‘ol day job now, hallelujah, and I’m going to reverse all my healthy progress and dive right back into finishing up the new novella before June. And then I want two more novellas finished before August. And then I want to get a pony. AND THEN I WANT TO CONQUER THE CAROLINAS AND PROCLAIM MYSELF EMPRESS!
Shit, shit, shit, I forgot to refill my pillbox with ibuprofen and my tits are killing me. (TMI) I also forgot to put the chicken in the crockpot before I left home. I’ve gone senile. I need to take it easy more often.