That's how my life feels right now. I can't do anything but the most gentle exercise because, if I do, it's just like seeing stars, an explosion of jet black ones and silver and gold glittery ones in my recently damaged eye.
I haven't done any creative writing because the thing I really want to work on, which is an account of all the strange, psychic and supernatural stuff that has happened to me, requires me to consult a diary which is somewhere in the mouse-chewed depths of my storage unit.
My two-book saga, Perfect Lives, is still not published and my agent is not getting any sense out of the publisher, who keeps fobbing her off with "So-and-So is reading it at the moment, then after that we want X and Y to look at it and give their opinion about the amount of sex in it" - these are books which have already been accepted and paid for.
The revamped Sweet Temptation, a historical 'bodice ripper' I wrote decades ago and decided to reissue, has stalled because of... well, sex again! I showed it to a publisher who reckoned that it was a bit tame for today's market and needed more raunch. I started, then stalled because I think that after the huge number of sex scenes I put into Perfect Lives, my imagination has developed Brewer's Droop!
Even my attempts to find a new abode are on hold. I was due to see a flat today but when I got to the station,. no trains were running, owing to damaged overhead cables, so I had to ring Mr Grumpy, who was halfway home after dropping me off (I live three miles from the nearest station) and he had to turn round and fetch me back again!
So, is there any progress on any front? Well, I won £2.50 on the Lottery, which is almost enough for a cup of coffee. One more win and I'll be able to treat myself to a nice G&T. Cheers!
9 hours ago