I won't get much writing done today. DH has finally succeeded in passing on to me the cold he picked up in Zermatt, so I'm not functioning at my best. I spent the morning watching Rafa/Federer's semi-final in the Australian Open until some glitch stopped the pics coming. (Fear not - it was recording, so I can pick it up later.) By then the dog was getting restless, so I took him for a stroll (I strolled, he ran everywhere) by the riverside. When I got back it was lunch time, and I ate while checking my e-mails. Bad habit, I know, but so time-saving.
I might repair to bed this afternoon, as I can't seem to get warm even though I have several layers one on top of another. I can try reading. I say try because I fell asleep twice last night while reading and I don't think I should blame Sarah Dunant's Blood and Beauty. It was me....Sometimes I just don't notice how tired I am.
I have several other books to get through before February. I have a Joanne Harris and a Diana Gabaldon sitting unread on the shelf, and I am due to review two books for the HNS. It never rains but it pours - I go for weeks without the sniff of a good book and then half a dozen come along at once and I don't have time to sit and read them all.
Still, the Viking adventure is shaping up well. I'm up to Chap 16, and at 3,000 words per chapter, that's about 48,000 words. I don't have the energy to do anything to it today. Strange how writing always seeems such a sit-down-and-be-comfortable hobby, but I can't do it when I'm tired or under the weather. I need energy flowing to get the story rolling, and today I'm as flat as a pancake. Hence all these miserable cliches .....