Woke up this morning with aching bones that I momentarily thought had come from yesterday's exericising (yay crunches!). But the familiar scratch at the bottom of my throat convinced me I'd caught whatever it was that had plagued my husband for the past few days.
Since we're supposed to write what we know, I figured I could also write what I feel. I had kicked myself so many times for not seizing moments of bad feelings from being scorned or mocked or misunderstood or ignored, that I'd made a mental note to capture those thoughts the next time I felt bad or depressed. No point just stewing and letting all those bad feelings go to waste.
So I sat at my computer with a cup of soothing white pear tea and started re-writing a passage in a short story about my protagonist's struggle with a major decision. You know how some decisions are so difficult and feelings associated with them so strong that you feel it physically? You don't? Lucky you. Mine hits me in the stomach and occasionally in my chest (Oh no! I'm having a heart attack! It's the number 1 killer of women!)
Anyway, in my un-ibuprofened state (the sacrifices I make for art!) I paid attention to my fogged mind, congested sinuses, aching bones, and started writing.
All I can say is: I think I will take a couple of advils and lie down.