I know I vowed to post twice a week, and I failed. Miserably. But I have excuses. Good ones. I wrote over a hundred pages on my WIP! (That's my current novel, by the way. Or Work in Progress for those of you uninitiated into the world of writing.)Yea me. I'm doing a happy dance.
Lucky for you, you can't see it. It's only happy for me. For everyone else it's painful. Seriously, I'm talking you might need morphine or something even stronger. My poor family is trapped in the same room with me and they are crying in despair. My friend thought I was exaggerating, but then she remembered some happy songs performed by me that made her feel that same way. She should know, she shared an apartment with me for a year.
My second excuse is we're remodeling our basement, and I've been sanding and painting between laundry, dishes, kids, and making my keyboard smoke. Remember my pic about how writer's block feels? (And yes I kicked its butt. Did I mention my 100+ pages? Yea me!) Well, this is how remodeling makes me feel.
That is an actual photo of my basement.
Okay, I repent again. It's not my basement. It's someone else's.
But my third excuse is I've been sick. Not some wimpy cough and fever kind of sick, but the kneel at the toilet, worship the porcelain goddess, and wish you'd die kind of sick. I'd rather lose my right arm than puke. Well, okay. I'd rather break my right arm than puke. That is a honest to goodness truth. I know. I've broken my right arm before. It wasn't as bad as vomit.
I'd post a pic of how puking makes me feel, but that would be wrong on so many levels. So now that I've confessed and am trying to turn over a new leaf, I hear-by vow, again, to post twice a week. And next time I will leave out words like puke and vomit.
Unless I need to use them. Which I hope I don't.