Working on "Canary": Out of the Shadows".
What AM I doing?
heh 😬
I'm under the weather. Sound like a seal barking when I try to talk. It's awesome. Lungs and throat are little bitches.
But I also know that I need to incorporate the elements I listed on OOS into said story. Cool beans. The coolest of beans. Hippest beans around.
I'm...not feeling it.
Hoping that changes. sigh
I have most of the day to do this!
But I digress.
This is about FOOD. ALL THE DAMN FOOD.
When I am in a writing flow/tear/manic stage, I will eat everything but the kitchen sink. It's like I'm expending energy, LOTS of mental energy, and my body demands to be compensated.
I'm not out here saluting the sun like Denise Austin or kicking the shit out of my back-up people doing Tae-Bo. (I see you, Billy.) I'm not roller-skating, hoola-hooping, or jump roping. 
I'm sitting at my damn desk with my little engine that could trying to break the sound barrier.
But man. I need snacks. I've gone in the kitchen, found absolutely nothing (thank you hindsight and foresight) and settled for eating things I don't even want. Because I require sustenance.
I'm not sure what part of my weirdness this comes from, and I don't have the time or wherewithal at this juncture to examine self. 
I'm sick, remember?
But damn it! I picked up a box of jalapeno poppers, potato skins, and taquitos this morning.
Carbs and grease. 
I couldn't be more excited.
Ate my healthy breakfast, and now we wait.
For:
inspiration
all the words
a storm that knocks out all electronics (checks the sky)
SOMETHING
And when my wee brain is shriveled up like a snail that found sodium, I'm going to reward that cerebellum with one, or all, of the above. 🥳
On a completely unrelated note, I hate hair on my neck. I've only now figured out that when I put up a ponytail/bun, I can make sure the end of it is facing north, not south. 
"Special" doesn't even begin to cover it.
Writing in Oklahoma, hopefully, sans hair on neck. 😄
EDIT: Forget mentioning the Sun Chips. It's a little after noon. They gone.
 
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