Well, there's no real progress in terms of writing to report, other than that I'm still in the land of the living.
Okay, I don't know if I was really in mortal danger, but I just got through a bout of food poisoning that felt like it took me within a biscuit's toss of the banks of the River Styx. Still not back to 100% or anything, but I'm on the mend and feeling human again.
"Feeling human" is something I say literally... for a few days there, I felt remarkably like some sort of reptile. I had no internal control over my body temperature, I mostly wanted to be perfectly still all day, and I felt like maybe one meal in a month was about as much as I should require. "I've become an ectotherm," I thought. An ectotherm that could shiver, though, so that kind of ruined the effect. I'm not really adapted to the reptilian lifestyle.
Here's the thing about being a writer. When I was in the grips of the illness, I mean the very worst of it, there was a part of me in there still scribbling along. It may not be possible to truly describe the misery of something like food poisoning, but you could certainly evoke it. I won't subject you to those words, but they are there if I need them.
You know, if I'm writing horror or something.