I am well, I suppose. I don't feel well yet, but I am not nearly ill enough to stay home. I have suffered the last two weeks with the worst just plain cold I've had. The doctor swabbed nasty fluids out of entirely too many orifices (orifi? orificia? orifii?) and determined thereby that I had neither staph, strep, nor the flu. So, why was I so damned sick?
I am overwhelmed with a mountain of work for which I must find a way to make time and for which I must try and find enough energy. My possessions need unpacking, my house cleaning, my clothes laundering, and the list goes on . . .
On examination, I learned I belonged to 70 communities on LJ. I have removed almost all of these that do not relate to writing in hopes of shortening my friends page to a point where I can keep up with it. I've cut the list to 37 communities. I think that's a good thing.
I have not been writing. Following a false start on February 12th, I find that I am still not producing more than a few words a day and that about once a week. I'm going to be posting religiously to my own journal for the next few weeks at least (I promise!) and I'm going to exert myself to contribute to my favorite communities, linebyline, ljpoets, onehundredwords, darkramblings, and opticalillusion. I am also going to dedicate myself to getting together some activity for my own community, etherintomatter.
Somebody in the office just won $94 in our bingo game. Shit! I think I'll start playing and start augmenting my retirement plan.