For a while there, I thought I’d contracted the bubonic plague. I know I don’t really have the plague and my symptoms were vastly different, but I felt like death and have a tendency for the melodramatic sometimes. I couldn’t even go near poor Little Squiggle for fear of causing her to mutate into a giant mucous monster. I locked myself in isolation for the weekend, although I did venture out in a vain attempt to try and recapture my youth on Saturday night by going skating (and I figured it couldn’t hurt to try and exercise the germs out, right?).

While I didn’t manage to injure myself (hurrah!), it became blindingly obvious that I am not 17 anymore. Not only did I feel like I’d been squished by a road train the next day, but I was literally twice the age of most of the people there. I also got talked into joining the local roller derby team. Oh dear.

Now that I am plague free, I’m continuing work on a short story for Billie Jo over at Out of The Woods who has very kindly asked me to submit one as a guest blogger! I haven’t written many short stories before, actually I haven’t written any, so I hope what I’m working on isn’t terrible 🙂

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