Laid out hideously sick with something short of food poisoning. Which it still might not be if I recover in the next few days, but lingering on for about five days has thrown me for a loop. I’ve avoided food almost entirely, because food just makes me think of how my stomach feeds.
My inner editors have been tricksie and somehow connected writing with this same sensation. You can’t write, because your stomach feeds had and writing smells like food. Don’t ask me how that works, just that it has, and I’ve not written since last Friday.
This should change tomorrow morning, when I get back onto things and finish my Chapter One Rewrite. Feeling good has never seemed a more satisfying prospect than it has about now. Uuuh.