November 8, 1998
6:38 p.m.
I have a cold, and it's kicking my proverbial tail. Of course, it could be worse. I mean, just look at poor Diana and all the problems she's having--what with having to put her virginity out on the curb and all. Don't ya just love how rumors start? I feel like I'm in grade school again and playing that game where one person whispers a story into another's ear, then it goes around the room. By the time the last person hears the story, it's nowhere near what it was before. Anyway. I'm not getting nearly as much done this weekend as I wanted. My concentration span is less than Brigid's and I'm coughing and hacking. Yeah, I know. More information than you needed, right? I am through "Stealing the Sun" completely, and I did start the rewrite of "Distant Wail . . . " or whatever the heck it's named. (You can tell how unmotivated I am when I can't even be bothered to scan through my files for a stupid title, eh). The thing has been holding on for a week and getting steadily worse. And on top of that, the stuipd cat--who is used to getting up pretty much at the crack of 4:00 is making sure I don't sleep much past that point. I think it's going to die soon. Well, time to go. Gotta do some more antihistamines and ibuprofen. Or whatever.  Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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Congrats to Tippi Blevins for her acceptance at "Clean Sheets." |
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