Oct 21, 2009 14:04
Our "health insurer" is arbitrarily refusing to pay for prescribed medication that's well out of our financial reach, so the Gregory household spent much of yesterday (and this morning) at depressing, infuriating phone war with the world. I'm on one of the book's few action scenes right now, so you might think a little sputtering, abject rage would fuel the muse, but no. Just makes me sputter. I've had so much more than my fill of greedy and/or incompetent assholes fucking over my loved ones.
New Words:
300
Total Words:
15,100
Forward Motion:
4.5 miles + 0.5 mile walk. Anger might not fuel the fingers, but I think it speeds the feet. The first two miles really, really sucked--I hadn't done much real, outdoor running in the past week or so--but around 3.5 everything clicked, the iPod switched from Nick Drake to Muse, and I just didn't want to stop. The thought of slowing down actually irritated me, so instead of stopping at the mouth of the Creeper Trail I kept on going into town. I've only felt something like "Runner's High" a handful of times, and this was one: I felt like I was operating to specifications, doing what I was built to do. It's nice to feel that way, you know, ever.
Music:
Muse
Reading:
McSweeney's 32
Otherwise:
Finished a major project at work. I feel like that should be more of a relief than it is.
writing,
health care,
sunflower