It's been a pretty rough day here. Woke up hard with nausea and light-headedness. Went to the gym anyway, since I'm stubborn. Barely made it through my workout. Came back feeling bloated, realized I was having a repeat of the issue that put me in the ER in early May. Essentially, galloping constipation of possibly viral origin. (There was some bad chicken involved the night before, I'm almost sure of it.)

This time I knew what to do. I clocked out of work on sick time, took some weapons-grade laxatives, and have spent the day dozing and reading, with a few hours of critical meetings around the middle of the day. Things have cleared out, so to speak, but I'm weak and tired and my head hurts a lot. That's as much lack of nutrition as anything, though I'm back on a limited amount of food now.

I have made a command decision, reality checked by calendula_witch, to listen to my body and not try to write today. It feels very weird to stay off the keyboard. Even giving myself permission not to work on the book is hard. Taking that permission is almost excruciating.

But she's flying in here tomorrow evening, and we're off to Iron Springs on Thursday morning, and the last thing I want to be is so worn out I can't be here for her, or handle the trip to the coast and my duties at the workshop.

So, I am quieting down, laying low, and not working on my book.

Damn it.

Originally published at jlake.com.