Illness has reared its ugly head in the Household of Doom. First it was the flu, then colds and a lingering sinus infection. None of it is very fun, but a new illnes has struck...
The dreaded... ORDINARY!!!
I think a fictional character just died somewhere and creative muses everywhere are screaming for mercy. I don't know what it is about being sick that brings out the stupid in me, but for every time I blow my nose, I swear ten brain cells died. You may ask, "how can you tell?" This is how I know:
Right before I was struck dumb with a nasal virus I had a brilliant idea for a new story. It was fantastic. It was witty. It had multidimensional characters. And... I forgot all of it. I went to bed a week ago thinking that first thing in the morning I was going to break out the old laptop and write it all down. That very morning I woke up with a sneeze, sinus pressure and what I'd like to think was severe head trauma. It's my only explanation for the sudden memory loss caused in an eight hour stint of fevered slumber.
My eyes water and I take a woeful sniff, but it is not from sorrow. I've lain on the couch for days, sucking down holistic organic lozenges and chugging herbal tea like a late night tavern drunk. It does me no good. I'm going to have this cold whether I like it or not. In the back of my fogged mind is the vestige of regret, knowing that I may have forgotten everything fleshed out in my memory for that Pulitzer Prize winning book. What is most disturbing is the greater lever of how much I really don't care right now. What I care about is a fast dwindling box of tissues and that I might have to launch myself onto the unsuspecting populace to restock.
Heaven help me! I need to get better soon.