My feet itch. There's absolutely NO logical reason why an allergic reaction to medication should make my feet swell up and itch like i wandered through poison ivy recently. But I'm home today, my windows are open and it smells like rain outside: a welcome change from months of hermetically sealed windows and constant snow.
Almost makes me ok with living in Minnesota. Almost.
My plan today is to work on the novel some, start a short story I thought up last night (need a 750 word super-shortie for a contest I want to enter) and get Pensword up and running again. Ambitious, no? I wasn't feeling well for a couple of weeks due to my utterly embarrassing health issue, but the depression brought on by inabilty to do a lot is waning and I'm rather perky about changing my situation again. Part of me just wants to write, part of me still wants to get my PhD in Classics/Archaeology so I can get paid to research my passion and keep writing as a pleasing hobby instead of "work".
There have been many times in my life I've wished I had that sort of narrow focus on only one or two interests so I didn't have to divide time amongst them. Today is one of those days.
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Unload your brainpan, but please prove you're not a Russian spam-bot. Or Skynet. I don't want the T1000 after me.
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