The husband is sick.  Any time either of my boys is sick, I’m a giant ball of anxiety (this makes no rational sense and it really annoys me, which is so much fun on top of the nervousness), so I’m eating popcorn for dinner and making sentence poetry.

I’m actually ahead with the project (January is nuts around here every year, so I made myself a cushion); hopefully by the time this posts, Scott will be healthy again, and if I or the boyo get sick, we’ll be on the mend, too.

Not sure what happened with my glasses up there; I’m gonna call it a superhero mask.

This is part of the Every Single Day Challenge, to raise money for the ACLU. You can donate any time; if you can’t donate, please feel free to signal boost.

Published by Laura E. Price

I read (you can check out my Goodreads if you want; it's linked on my blog). I write (I’ve been published in Cicada, On Spec, Strange Horizons, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Betwixt, Metaphorosis, Gallery of Curiosities, The Cassandra Project; the stuff that’s available online is linked on my blog). I plan for the inevitable zombie apocalypse and welcome the coming of the gorilla revolution. Or the anarchist rabbits. Whichever happens first. (I also blame my husband for basically everything.)

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