"REEL AROUND THE FOUNTAIN CHARRED FLESH"

I could injure myself looking at a paper towel, for crying out loud.

I don't even know what just happened, but it involved an iron, an ironing board that I really ought to just replace (it's wonky), the haze of a head cold and a burst of energy from my cat. Whatever happened, I just got hit on the back of the head/neck with an iron then hit my cheekbone on my kitchen table. BONK! Ugh.

It's like that today, is it?

I'm frustrating myself today. I have plenty buzzing around my head to write down, but with this cold or allergy or whatever is going on, I have the focus of a gnat. I picked up a book I need to finish, read a page, got up to make coffee, took a shower, turned the iron on, took the cat food out of the cupboard but walked away, read a page of the book, wrote a sentence, checked email, blah blah blah.

Oh, Wen-Ti, Chinese g-d of literature, whose task it is to keep a log of writers to best assign reward and punishment to each according to his/her merit! Maintain me on your register of titles and honors and bestow upon me literary favor! C'mon, Wen-Ti, I'm talking a few pages today. That's it. Ten, tops. C'mon. Seriously.

Uh, Wen-Ti?

Hello?

Helloooooo?