Alas, pestilence is upon us.
The three year old has become a matter creating soupy poop machine . . . either that, or she's trying to become rocket powered. Regardless, all plans for the day have been cancelled due to prodigious diaper changing.
I will critique a manuscript I had offered to me lately, and then I'll try to get a little written myself. I slept in today so I'm starting out behind. I woke up feeling a tad queasy myself, so I'm not going to do anything too adventuresome. Not to mention, I practically killed myself while trying to climb over the child gate without my braces on earlier. So, wounded and queasy, I will keep my efforts to a minimum.
Soon school will start and there will be no more sleeping in. But the trade off being I can actually get three hours to myself every morning makes it all worth it. Perhaps I can catch up on my writing. Ah well, it won't be long now.
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