This is not bragging.

No, it isn't.

It's just me saying that I got a copy of The Frost-Haired Vixen by John Zakour in the mail this evening, and am happily devouring my way through it. If it were gloating, I'd point out that I got it from the author himself. So obviously, it's not gloating.

I finished episode 2 of the robot series last night. Thank God. That one was a hard one to write. Episode 3, probably coming at me tomorrow night. For now, I let my brain uncramp a little. Although oddly enough, I don't go into "Stop writing" mode, I go into "I have this great short story idea that I'd love to write all by itself, and I just realized I understand how to write the script for the first three pages of my long-delayed comic book Dark and --"

The hamster's stepped out for a coffee break, but the wheel is still spinning.

...

Most of this week, my wife was sick with the plague. I would mostly write while she did sick people things such as eat ice cream without guilt, watch daytime soap operas without guilt (I don't know how, either) and compete with the cats in the house for who could spend the longest portion of the day curled up on the bed, asleep.

I would then leave her sick and go to work where...everyone had come down with the plague.

Everyone is better now, thank you.

And because I'm two weeks and 30,000 words away from a deadline, means that it's now the time when my body takes stock of things and decides to come down with...the plague. I assume this is what's happening anyway. I'm sore all over and stiff, and I can't find a comfortable position to be on the computer that doesn't involve being slothful on the couch.

So! That's my end of the world!