So apparently getting vomit-my-guts-out sick the first week of NaNoWriMo is becoming a tradition with me. Thankfully, this year wasn’t nearly so severe as last year, with the ambulance ride and all the dysentery. Just a fun round of puking followed by two days of sleeping off a low-grade fever. During my brief awake periods I did manage to find the energy to prop myself up and finally finish reading The Graveyard Book, so that’s a silver lining.
I did manage to drag myself out of bed long enough to go vote. And look how that turned out.
My word count, though, is–well, actually, not as abysmal as it could be. I “should” be at 8,335 words by the end of today, by all official reckonings, but after filling every spare moment with sprints today, I currently stand at 5,304. If I don’t manage to write any more today, I’ll be okay with that.
In other news, Pete was supposed to get his goodies snipped off yesterday, but his pre-op blood work showed an elevated liver count, so now I have to sneak pills into peanut butter for him for two weeks. So Little Pete & Re-Pete got a reprieve. I’m a little dismayed. Husband is a little relieved. Pete is a lot oblivious and I believe would gladly trade his wee balls for a spoonful of peanut butter. Dogs have no pride.
Now I’m gonna go eat a snack and pour some coffee and have another go at that word count.