No, I'm not doing a location reveal.
This is more under the guise of explaining what's been going for almost two weeks and really the last couple of years.
For the record I don't look like the picture above and never did (I wish I did, okay.) And I'm highly amused by the name of the typewriter which is apparently HerVeyns As Hons. Parallel universe brand, no doubt. I'm also amused by the fact that the pages near the typewriter are handwritten, there's no paper in the machine, and the machine might perhaps have an internal light. Never mind. Now I'm done dissecting the picture so you don't have to, moving right along.
For the last almost two weeks, I've been sicker than I've been since Jan. 2020. As in, not dying level of sick, but extreme tiredness and JUST not functioning. And being unable to fully kick it. Festivities started as in 2020 with some kind of stomach symptom, then moved to a double ear infection (which always makes me daft) and then settled into a sort of general malaise. This is the first time in two weeks my head is semi-clear and typing a few sentences doesn't make me want to take a nap.
I feel terrible because I've not been posting Witch's Daughter on substack and have made no progress at fixing Winter Prince. And though I'm writing No Man's Land, because it won't let me NOT write it, I also haven't posted that. Other things I haven't done include cleaning the litterbox, which I'll be dealing with as soon as this is done.
More generally I feel horrible about fulfilling pledges from my fundraiser in 22, partly because it's hard to tuckerize someone when your writing has been stop and go but mostly stop.
In my defense, I grossly overestimated the rate of improvement once I came to lower altitude. I am improving, mind you. Various symptoms and medications have been cut back to an almost miraculous amount. But one of the triggers of my auto-immune is stress and between the national situation and ... moving. Not to mention various family events (good ones, but still stressful) my autoimmune keeps throwing me back health wise.
All I can do is promise I'll get to mailing out books and tuckerizations that are grossly overdue, as well as the USAian Anthology being assembled, and beg your pardon. My body is as usual on a journey to kill me, and all I can do is work around the edges of that. I have hope it will get better so I can finish books before I die.
What I have almost finished is the next Rhodes and two of Dyce which I hope to have out before the end of summer, and the three being serialized in Chapter House. It would help if No Man's Land weren't eating my brain, if it weren't now 125k words and just starting to unravel the mystery towards solution (even though it's not a mystery. You know what I mean) and if it let me go long enough to do other stuff.
Anyway, the last two weeks have been bizarre, and possibly prolonged by my trying to ignore being sick. (Naaaah!) The only reason I know it's not auto immune is that Dan caught it too, and this week got bad enough he took two sick days, which hasn't happened except for doctor's appointments in.... years, I think.
And that's where we are and where I am right now. Once I post this, I'm going to eat something then clean litter boxes, put stuff in the washer, and see if I can get the next couple of chapters of WD up to going up on chapter house substack. (I have them written but they read blah, and I don't know if that's because I was ill while going over them, or they are actually blah.)
Quick notes: With the check donations in 23 I got a small pack of coffee, and someone asked me not to have it until I had emailed him. I did, but got no response. And now I've lost both sample and email. (Well, I AM ADD. I lose everything including my mind, often.) If that person is reading this, please ping me. I will endeavor to find the coffee.
Also to the person who left me a comment detailing the connection for him between eczema and aspartame. I can't remember if I posted this before, but the same link seems to exist for me, and being aware of the possibility stopped a massive outbreak cold. (Though there's still a very minor one going on.)
Oh, and before you yell at me, I promise not to overexert in cleaning. I'm just going to do a "lick and a promise" so I can settle to write then take it easy for two or three days, so I can recover. Pinky swear.
Until Monday.
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