Apparently, I have angered the gods of wellbeing. Everything hurts. My shoulders and neck feel fused together–or at least like they really would like to be–wingstubs are deeply upset, and I’ve got this odd and persistent pain in my right breast. It’s a hot, jabby ache, worse than a bruise but not sharp like a cut. I slept for something like fourteen hours yesterday, and I’m still tired. I’d say I was in a flare, but I haven’t spiked a fever (yet).
Seems like I overdid something. Stupid body.
A Harmony of Foxes
New words: 1100
The novel continues apace.