This better not turn into a pattern.

I crawled out of bed at 5:30 as usual, slightly stuffy, and met up with Angie to go off to the fieldhouse. Two hours later I was home, tired and stiff from too much sprinting, and did a lot of leg stretching to keep things from locking up in there. Then I took a nice hot bath, and at 9 I decided "I'm going to nap for an hour."

I woke up at 10 and could not find the energy or motivation to put clothes on. My arms and legs felt like rubber bands and there was that wet feeling in the top of my throat that says "You're about to get a sinus infection." I fell back on the pillows and slept like the dead until 3.

Sleep did not help. I still feel stuffy, achy and gross. I made some of my cayenne tomato-cream sauce and put it over ziti and chicken, so now I'm full, but I don't feel any better.

"Birds" isn't getting written today. Therefore, it isn't getting written for that anthology.

Dammit.

I'm going back to bed now.

I finished the Drucker last night (whilst getting a tattoo worked on). Great stuff.

If a person wanted evidence against Rand's whole belief that innovation and discovery are the result of endless solitary effort by geniuses, he could do a lot worse than to read Innovation and Entrepreneurship -- or madandrew's livejournal.