First last night I got too little sleep. Three hours. I went to bed late only to wake early and go crabbing with my Troll Dad out on the Sound. I was excited, it's opening weekend and it was supposed to be a gorgeous day.
Gorgeous day. One of the first we've had in the Seattle area in a while, and the first over 80 degree day we've had in a dog's age. For a pale-fleshed Washingtonian with little tolerance for anything that isn't rain, flannel, and mold, this was a disaster.
Double disaster: I was wearing a grungy t-shirt, and now not only are my arms burnt, it's a farmer's tan burn. It's not even either. I have these splotchy pale spots where I'd obviously touched my arms with my sun-screened fingers. (Yes, despite stupidly forgetting to lather my arms, I had coated my face, thank the Gods!) I look like a spotted monster, and after getting home, cleaning the crab, cooking the crab, and showering, I was ready to nap. I laid down, fully ready to embrace my pillowing exhaustion, only to find that my body, first burnt and tired, was now feverish. I couldn't get myself warm. It was eighty-something degrees outside and I was shivering. Some nap that was.
Now I think, "Fine, be that way, Lobster Arms, I'll just go to bed early tonight."
To which Lobster Arms reply, "Nope. You will toss and turn and ache and writhe until you can't take it anymore."
Well fine, Lobster Arms. FINE. If I can't sleep then I shall stay awake and write. Misery loves company after all, and I have characters enough to torture.
So tonight, as Sulfur approaches its final climax, I charge ahead smelling of aloe-vera lotion and coffee! Today I have finished the estimated first half of Sulfur. Huzzah!
(Today I also caught my limit of crab. Come the Fourth of July I shall eat it with a vengeance.)
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