Last semester was not a good semester for writing, at least from a physical point of view. I'm talking ehre about the actual, physical act of writing, not the trouble of getting ideas or putting those ideas into words.
It started with the bike crash I described in a previous post. With a badly sprained wrist, I found it very hard to write, especially in the somewhat cramped hand position a laptop forces you to take. Once I started to get papers that needed to be graded, things just got worse (I grade all of my papers on the computer).
My wrist recovered a little past the midpoint of the semester, but something still was not right. My body ached, and I felt like I had been hit by a truck. I had been hit by a truck in August, but this was different. Chills, fever, general bad feelings persisted until I finally went to the doctor.
If you go to the doctor in Connecticut and complain of a fever, joint aches, and extreme fatigue, they immediately assume you've been fraternizing with ticks and diagnose Lyme disease. That's what I had, and now I know why my dog, who has had Lyme twice this year, acted so miserable when he was sick. It is no fun at all. Put Lyme very near the bottom of your list of things to experience.
At any rate, now I back and relatively healthy (let me find some wood to knock) and I'll try to get into a more regular schedule of writing. We'll see how that goes.
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