I really do not like being sick.
I’ve had to put exercising on hold as I recover from whatever it is that’s making my throat and muscles sore. I hope to be back in the gym on Monday, but I’m trying to be realistic. It may be a while before I’m back up to my previous level. I don’t convalesce well; I’d rather be active in some way than simply sitting and resting. All too often such idle time can lead to me feeling broken or useless, even if I know intellectually that I am not.
It’s not all bad news, though. Cold Streets is very, very close to completion. I might have been able to finish it last night if I were feeling more on top of my game. As it is, I’ll settle for finishing the first draft of my second novella within a week, and lining up test readers for what is a very, very rough pass at the story. Part of me wants to appeal to mercy; the rest of me knows the harshest words can be the most useful in the editorial process.
I’m nearly there. I have to stick with it. I can rest when all of the work is done.