Sunday night, I was downed by a nasty norovirus, which left me feeling like Harry from "Dumb and Dumber" after Lloyd spiked his tea with TurboLax. Take that scene, multiply it by several times over the span of two-and-a-half days, and you get the idea. Sorry for the visual. Norovirus is typically something that sweeps through a cruise ship and sickens a bunch of people really quickly...how did I miss the buffet and a show?
The virus also came along with a fever, body aches, and the general feeling that if I tried to walk to the bathroom, I'd keel right over. As you can imagine, it prevented me from getting any writing done, although I did reread a couple of stories on my iPhone (thank you, Dropbox!).
I finally started to feel a little better yesterday afternoon and managed to pound out 780 words of a short story idea that's been percolating for a while. So, I managed to avoid Tayshaun Prince, but ended up cold from the field, using free throws and a few jump shots to fall well below an average night.