Holy fish-flavoured [insert religious deity of your choice]: I actually got some writing done today. A whole 1,542 words. OK, so it's hardly a quantity to be shouting from the rooftops when you're on a deadline, but it's better than the bugger all I've been doing of late.
Of course, there's a downside. Mr Nose has started his terminal drip, drip, drip of haemoglobin fun again. This morning was the first time in about three years I've been able to actually breathe through both -- count 'em -- nostrils and by the time mid day came round I'd started in on my favourite hobby again: very slowly bleeding to death.
But WORDS!!! Hahaha! I would have got more of the little sods too, but there were excuses, so I feel vindicated. Sort of. And a bit bunged up. Plus I was due to go to Glasgow tomorrow to do an overnight stay, stock signing binge, and interview with Radio Clyde, but thankfully that's been postponed. I still can't walk round the house without bumping into things -- head no work in straight lines. Standing up, go WHEEEEEEE... So hopefully I can spend the rest of the week recuperating and writing. Then maybe that deadline miracle will happen after all.
Plus I'm getting details in on the internet jungle drums that the book launch for DYING LIGHT is all sorted. We're going to Kings College for drinkies and nibbles and some sort of talk thing. Only trouble being I have to give the talk. And it's after the free booze, so I can even get giggly. Grumble, grumble, grumble.
And one final plus -- with the not eating, the 'unfortunate' surgeries, rampant blood loss, and the fever, I've lost a stone and a half in twelve days. Which isn't something I'd recommend, but it's nice to see my cheekbones again. I'd forgotten what they looked like. My face now looks about a foot and a half longer.
[insert religious deity of your choice] bless us every one.