I have a head cold/sinus thing that has me walking around with a fogged-up head.
Sometimes it feels a little headachy, and sometimes it feels strangely good. Like I’m gently drugged. It’s the whole wavering between pounding pain and slight euphoria.
Euphoria. What a word. I always picture myself standing in the middle of a gigantic, pale pink flower as multi-colored gum drops rain down from a cotton candy sky.
I’m so tired today. I find myself unable to focus on work (of which I have plenty, let me assure you). I want to wander around and talk to people. I want to wrap myself in companionable conversation like a warm blanket on a frosty day. I love laughing with loved ones, commiserating with colleagues, and alliterating my annotations.
I find my muse has re-inspired me with words. I race to new ideas, character development, and story arcs that threaten to shoot off the page.
I drag myself to the predictable, the ho-hum, the boring. The balance between love and money rarely tips toward love, if you ask this humble scribe.
And, well, onward. Off to work I go. Hi Ho Hi Ho.