Last night was the pits. I’ve had bursitis and broken bones, and I would say the pain level on this one is about that of the broken arm. Kinda gets to you. Last night I opened the spice cabinet, got caught in a cascade of bottles, stepped back, and yes, that hurt. I kept trying to put the bottles up, and the bottles kept falling, and Jane came in to take over, thank goodness. I’ve tried to do a bit about the place, but that was the absolute pits, and I had to admit I needed to go sit and stay there. 2 AM, it lit up again, along with a case of heartburn, and I spent two miserable hours trying to ice it down to quiescence and not have to take Advil.

Today has been much better. I have gotten through most of the day with out Advil and without a lot of the pain…Jane’s spent the day picking up, bless her, and doing the bit of yard work that needed doing, and now she’s fixing dinner. I am not lifting a finger. I’ve taken 2 Advil, hoping for an evening when I can do a little gaming and get to bed for some sleep.

Poor me, poor me, chorus of moans and violins. But da-amn! this has been miserable!

We didn’t get the aurora, either. Bummer.

But—over all—doing pretty well. We’re now settled in for a swiftly-approaching fall, and the waterlily is slowing down on its blooms, with increasingly cool water in the pond.

I want so badly to get to work on this book. But one thing about writing—you can do it lying abed with chicken soup.