In Bed

This week my torme-- err-- doctors and other medical staff-- decided it would be best for me to spend as much time as possible in bed. So after schlepping home in a funk on Tuesday, I crawled into bed with Max. The last week of the month is the one Ahmed spends in Nova Scotia, so he was on the phone grow-- err-- gently urging me-- to stay put and keep out of the nasty weather. I have to say, it's astonishing how much you can get done from your bed.

For instance:

If your sheets say 1000 thread count, and you have a good magnifying glass and a pin, you can actually count the threads.

With baby wipes and cotton swabs you can thoroughly clean the wrinkles, ears, and nose cracks of one reluctant pug.

You can discover what they actually show on local access cable. I must say the kids at Marshfield High made me cry with the Senior Class video. Good luck, kids.

Were you aware that in 90 seconds you can reduce fine lines and wrinkles, taking ten years off your face? If that's not true you get your money back!

There's a pentagram in the street map of Washington, DC. It points directly at the White House. DUDE! Witches should totally be in there! Also the tops of the pentacle's points have three street intersections that, from the air, appear to be three 6's. Always been there. The crazy French guy who laid out the city destroyed the only copy of the plans, by the way.

Andrew Jackson was a pratt. I'm serious. Discovery says so, and I always had my suspicions.

I have 73 plots in my current plot book. Yeah, I keep a plot book. Whenever ideas for short stories or novels pop into my head I scribble them in there. 73.

My current YA WIP is getting better because I am adding a light romantic angle. I've also changed the title to SongSpell. I'll probably change it again.

You know why most fantasy books have maps in the front? They are a total blast to draw in bed.

Max hates chickens. Like... he barks at the TV a lot. He barks at horses, dogs, and cats with a great deal of vehemence. He barks at anything in a pinstripe baseball uniform (that's my fault). But OMG he completely wigs out if he sees a chicken. Also the Afflec Duck. Not a fan.

We have goldfinches outside my window again. I love them. They're good luck and are supposed to bring money, but I don't even care about that. I love the way they perch on the most absurdly tiny thing-- like one slender stalk of ribwort-- and sway in the wind. Plus I love bright yellow.

And finally-- seriously-- these curtains have to go.

ZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZzzzzz

I did nothing this week. Certainly nothing worth mentioning. I had a few projects but never finished them, though one is close. And this was stuff I normally do in an afternoon. But I had a cold and just couldn't seem to get out of bed for more than an hour at a time.

Thing is, this is rare for me. I'm one of those people who hates-- HATES-- inactivity. I may not do something others view as worthwhile, but on an average day I do a LOT. Even if it's just picking up kids, finishing some ideas, or getting the dog to the groom. Most days I run errands at least once-- usually two or three times, since I do my mom's and she has the attention span and memory capacity of a gnat. I also try to get to one of my cafe spots for at least an hour of writing. It may be crap, it may be something I toss out, but it's work that keeps me going.

This week? Nope. Even Max, who is very hyperactive, seemed to be unwilling to go further than the edge of the patio for a pee. He flopped on the couch with me, sucked up for treats, and snored. I have to admit... I didn't do much more than that myself.

So here is the week, in summation, as interpreted by an anonymous pug on Youtube, since doing our own video would have required... err... doing something.