I'm never setting a writing goal again. Tomorrow is Friday and as of yet I haven't written one word this week. THIS was going to be the week I put on those orange heels and covered new ground with my WIP. I was going to write and not edit.
Monday and Tuesday got away from me completely. (Husband is better, to all who asked, thank you). Then, I woke up mid week with a few red spots on both arms. Mosquito bites? Spider bites? I wondered. Then they started to spread. I had Poison Ivy - which I'm highly allergic to.
Made a trip into town to see the dr. Cortisone shot and an RX for strong cortisone tabs, and a $90 bill later. I'm counting on some relief and soon. It's welty, red, swollen, weeping. The blisters, not me, though I could weep easily enough. When the famed itching started I thought I was going to scratch my own eyes out. To anyone who has not had it. You do not want it. I promise. It's awful.
I've dealt with one crisis after another this week.
Tomorrow, barring anymore unpleasant events, I will write. But I'm not making any promises. Not setting any goals. I'll fly by the seat of my pants.
Are the odds ever stacked against you when you plan to write?
Is it just me? Am I jinxed? Have a black cloud over my head like Charlie Brown?
Whatever, I'm off to bed. Tomorrow has to be better.