In which I was sick …

Last week, I got sick. Not serious sick. Not hospital-level sick. Just plain old, garden-variety, lying on the couch, hating the world and everything in it (excepte Mephistopheles Danger Gordon, The Husband Bear and salt and vinegar rice crackers) sick.
All would have been lost in a very depressing, puddly, all-losty kind of way, EXCEPT …
it turns out when I get sick I become …
SUPER WRITER PERSON!!!
Seriously! Before this bout of sickness I was convinced all I was capable of doing while sick was lie on the couch and yell at inanimate objects, but it appears I ALSO have a hitherto undiscovered talent for writing lots in between my yelling! 15,000 words worth of lots! WOOT!
Whether it’s good lots, I am not entirely sure. I will spend the weekend finding out, but at the moment I am on a big 15,000 word long cloud of writerly bliss.

So, the moral of this story: sick = bad and 15,000 words is not enough to make it un-bad and repeat-worthy, but it does numb the pain slightly.