Yesterday my train derailed, and my body subjected me to a bout of intestinal distress. Yuck. I didn’t feel like moving. My malady resulted from something I ate. Whenever I eat something I have not prepared myself or obtained from a reliable source, it is a risk I take. Milk, and milk products, are the bane of my existence, and lactose hides in some unlikely places. I have become adept at steering clear of the usual culprits, but occasionally, I miss a potential problem and pay a 24-to-48-hour price.
My diminished state required that I removed many activities from my lets-do-this-today-list, but I still accomplished a couple of things. It was a good day for reading, and I started and finished another book. Then I turned on the tv and promptly fell asleep. That’s not a bad thing.
I always remember my number one writing priority. My core habits are…
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