I’ve had a bit of a headache all day. I woke up with it and thought it would go away once I wandered around the house a bit and let all the weird sinus pressure drain from my head, but it didn’t, and so I kept squinting and everything and shying away from light like someone with vampiric tendencies.
It also snowed last night, so there was a bit of a—well, not a kerfuffle, but a period of time during which I didn’t know if I would be working or not. And then I wasn’t working. And then my mother called me because her car had broken down and she needed me to take her to work. And then I came home and realized it was already evening and OH MY GOSH NO WONDER EVERYONE HATES MONDAYS SO MUCH.
There was some writing and stuff happening, but only a little bit, because headache, you know. But another chapter is done, though I haven’t a clue as to what happens in the next chapter. This is what happens when I fling myself through a story, rather than doing something sensical like plotting things out before I begin.
Also, speaking of writing, The Half Killed should be coming out soon. There is one last run of proofreading being done, and then that’s it? Wait, yes. That will actually be it. Which is frightening, of course. That means other people will be reading this story (well, other people aside from beta readers and editors and proofreaders and people more focused on the technical bits and pieces rather than just sitting back and enjoying the story).
Other than that, not really much to speak of. It’s cold. It snowed. The groundhog declared another six weeks of winter. I want to crawl into a hole lined with pillows and fleece and drink hot chocolate until April.