Book Title: I really can't make this S*&) up
The squatters went to a coastal fest over the weekend. I was supposed to go. Nevermind how they went with my car and I did not... I had peace at home to write.
However, after much petting of sea fairing creatures, they brought home something ick - queasy, tired, dizzy, and blah.
Healthy young humans took to their beds and left me with the increasingly bossy but still adorable kid.
This morning, I woke up with the symptoms. There was no 'taking to bed.' I had to work. I did cancel a 7:00 meeting because I don't see myself being awake by then.
About 30 minutes ago, my SIL comes dragging out to ask if I would go get the kid from day care. No - working and contagious not to mention woozy. So she called her hubs - the kid's FATHER - who apparently spewed off about how much they do for mom and I and that we could ... I stopped listening that point because laughter was making me woozy.
I'm glad I'm a writer. I am getting great plot.
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