Going over this site’s archives for collecting stuff for a book (I think it will ultimately be three) I found how often I’m sick. Well, it’s somewhat better now we’ve moved, but still bad relative to most human beings.
I must do something about that. But not today.
I should know when I can’t write — not avoid it, because I’m lazy or not sure what to write, but can’t — I’m usually coming down with something.
It’s gastric trouble. No, not the Winnie. I can still taste and smell fine. And son had it earlier. About two/three days. He says he powered through the second day with energy drinks, but it upset his stomach. So I’m not sure.
I think I’ll sleep a lot and maybe try to do some editing, since I have four fiction and one non-fiction books to edit (no, nothing exciting, the books reverted years ago.)
I’m reminded of Giovanni Guareschi’s books again. Wen Don Camilo was likely to get too excited over local politics, the Lord sent him an illness that made him too sick to do anything stupid.
I’ve noticed a certain congruence….