I was so miserable I fell asleep for three hours -- then awake again, trying to figure out how to get comfortable enough to write.
Happily I discovered that the computer desk/tray thing I bought, that was doing more harm than good, had legs that extended, and suddenly I was (relatively) comfortable, so I wrote a fast 17 more pages. The hero is tied up, the maguffin is drugged, the heroine has just leaped at the villain with a kitchen knife in her hand. Such excitement.
Yes, I've been eating junk food but I suddenly realized that all this ibuprofen is doing a number on me. Since it doesn't really keep me from hurting I might as well switch over to tylenol completely. I ordered room service and a big bucket of ice and I'm sitting here drinking diet lemonade and trying to figure out how much more I have to go.
Tomorrow's a day long challenge - if I need to eat I'll get room service again. I'm better off not trying to walk anyway, and I probably need at least forty pages to bring this baby home.
You know, serial killers aren't really a whole lot of fun. I think I'm better off with men who kill for political reasons, not for fun.
Time for a break. That makes it a total of a mere 25 pages today, but tomorrow, no more excuses. Onward and upward, to infinity and beyond!