I’m home today, sitting in the library with a kitty on my lap, and the lap dog taking up the majority of the floor.
Mrs. Wesley had been out of commission Tuesday and Wednesday with the Crud, and now I’ve got it. Coughing, hacking, sniffles. The whole nine. And I’ve completely lost my voice. Like, the only sound I can get to come out above a whisper is when I’m wheezing or hacking up a furball.
I would have written my 1,000 words Tuesday, but Mrs. Wesley needed to be cuddled, and therefore we watched the remainder of LOST Season 2 on DVD.
I would have written my 1,000 words yesterday, but, quite honestly, I was already sickipoo and vegged in front of the TV while Mrs. Wesley needed to use the computer anyway. I think I went to bed at 9PM.
Ironically, I may very well write my 1,000 words today, when I’m sick as a dog. There are some things I really want to get down in response to the book I read (and mostly completed) this weekend: a collection of Max Brand’s (mostly) non-western short stories. Like how most of them are built around just five scenes, or how strong his female characters are. I mean, almost all of the stories I read were from 1934-1936, and they were GOOD. Well-plotted, well-paced… well-written stories with well-drawn characters.
It’s a shame that Mr. Faust hated them so much. He may not have been a great poet, but he was a fine writer.
