Then I came home, managed to scrawl a crude thumbnail for "Digger" and went to bed in sinus-pounding agony. And slept for most of the day, got up, tried to work, moaned a bit, went back to bed. So yesterday was pretty much a total loss--through sheer willpower, I finished off one page on the lifecycle of the happy frog from its beginnings as a mostly neutral egg. (If I had total editorial control, I would include a grumpy tadpole, but the tadpoles have to be quasi-realistic, so my hands are tied.) I have until Tuesday to finish the rest, and it's a damn good thing that I worked like some kind of art berserker on it last week, because this week has been plagued with health problems. For someone like me, who is generally as healthy as a horse and has no opportunity to pick up anything contaigious since I work at home, this is galling. I mean, I know us home workers oughta get our sick days too, but there is a distinct measure of guilt that never accompanied sick days at Real Jobs, when I mostly was thinking "ha! I hate the office! Go, strep!" Difference between a job and a career, I suppose.
Still, the end of the happy frogs is in sight! Only three and a half pages to go!