It feels like the last couple months have tried to kill me. There’s been all kinds of stress and work and things and I’ve been trying to get out a book that’s been finished for almost a year while writing more things and, well, I’ve fallen sick. It took a 30 hour day with more stress piled on at the end but the virus that’s been lurking finally got me.
And I don’t have time to be sick.
With everything that was going on, something had to give, and it was the blog that did. I’ve been continuing my writing and working on covers and working in general and there just doesn’t seem to be enough time in the day to get everything accomplished.
Taking the time during a week when I have more commitments than a sane person would take off to actually rest is difficult. If I must rest, I’ll be taking a manuscript and a red pen to the couch with the lap desk.
I say thank goodness for modern medicine for making it possible to function while I’m ill but is that really the best plan? We’ve made so many time saving advances that we’ve filled up the time with other things. We don’t have time to slow down anymore.
So, yes, this is kind of a fever rant but there’s something wrong when we don’t have the time to take care of ourselves.