Jo seems to be ailing from something a lot of us forget about unless living in similar environments. Try to give her a kind word or two.
I’m beginning to wonder if the universe doesn’t want me to be an indie writer. Yesterday I was wondering if I should be a writer at all. How can you retain any modicum of credibility if you keep on disappearing, no matter how hard you work when you’re visible? I just don’t know. I’ve had seven full days and nights of my internet being off since Christmas, and it’s been as slow as a constipated tortoise with bunions when it wasn’t. It went off on Tuesday night and back on just now (Thursday).
I am thinking that I am most seriously cool though, because I am writing this with a raging fever, several tiny demons sticking pins into my kidneys, and a disturbing dearth of anti-malaria tablets. Yes. I have full on malaria, and forgot to restock my medicine chest with courses of the cure. I’ve sent out messages for…
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