Ugh....

Not sure whether to caption "RIP immune system" or "it comes in threes"

Firstly, I'm a touch feverish, so “it comes in threes” seems to be an idea for the collection after ‘The Bone Orchard’. How that works remains to be seen.

I am…paying for the last few weeks. Paying for the writer's retreat, the UKGE, and everything in between. Dear readers, If this is the way my immune system takes me out, it was with shingles, an ear infection and an opportunistic staph/strep monstrosity. And a cough that sounds like my lungs are trying to escape.

The thing with chronic, unpredictable illness that we all try to power though is it's both chronic, and, well… unpredictable. In my case, I've had a sort of cold/runny nose/cough going, then the opportunistic infection made its presence known, and…

Shingles. Up one flipping cheek, possibly exacerbating my ear infection. Wheeee.

So. No office clearing. No writing. Lots of fever dreams. Would like to raise my hand now and claim exhaustion as my own new best friend.

Sorry.

It does mean fever dream wierdness, including a body/sci-fi horror that's been code-named “their true domain” (dunno why, but horror is so much easier to write when I'm this run down. It bleeds - reality and dreaming end up blurred. Which needs explaining in an essay).

I am working hard not to go quiet, not to give in to lethargy, but antibiotics + antivirals + an active infection and equally active virus leave me feeling like I'm being drawn, quartered and outflanked. Think kindly of my poor immune system, abd hope they are ressurectable.

Yours, blahly,

Kai