Irony is a cruel mistress

Just when I was getting back into the swing of things -- looking forward to the writing again, all fired up and ready to go -- everything goes infection-tastic. So instead of forging ahead, I’m struggling behind* with a swimmy head, churning stomach and all the mucus you can shake a snotty hanky at. It’s been doing the rounds, and now it’s my turn.

Damn you, naughty immune system, I have tales of murder and mayhem to write! Well, Bondage, Rape and Bestiality, but you know what I mean.

* In more ways than one.