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desperanceThis is not fair. There are rules, about this sort of thing. Rules.
I was only saying in a comment a couple of days ago, spelling out the traditional order: one finishes a novel, and then instantly comes down with a disgusting disease. Just as one goes to a con, and then brings con crud home. First the work, and then the reward. Neat, predictable, assured.
I am, what, a scatter of days from finishing this book. And my throat is sore, I shiver, I cough and sneeze. This is highly irregular, and about a week ahead of itself. I suspect sabotage. *glowers in a Cambridgely direction*
I shall not abandon the race. Even now, I am packing to go down to the library, where I shall hawk and spit in the Silence Room and no one will love me any more. I am sorry for it, but the book matters more than any shred of decency in my behaviour.
I was only saying in a comment a couple of days ago, spelling out the traditional order: one finishes a novel, and then instantly comes down with a disgusting disease. Just as one goes to a con, and then brings con crud home. First the work, and then the reward. Neat, predictable, assured.
I am, what, a scatter of days from finishing this book. And my throat is sore, I shiver, I cough and sneeze. This is highly irregular, and about a week ahead of itself. I suspect sabotage. *glowers in a Cambridgely direction*
I shall not abandon the race. Even now, I am packing to go down to the library, where I shall hawk and spit in the Silence Room and no one will love me any more. I am sorry for it, but the book matters more than any shred of decency in my behaviour.