I was starting to feel better, right?

 So what do I do today?

Slip and fall on the ice.

If it wasn't so painful, it would be funny, especially since my family was sitting in the car and NEVER NOTICED.  I was scraping the windows like I do, and I'd just gone around Shawn's side (which is often sheltered, even though we park on the street and doesn't always ice up) and I half-tripped, half-slid on the hard packed snow/ice and down I went.  As I was falling I was thinking "NoNoNoNoNONot my back" and so, of course, I TWISTED and came down hard on my knee.

My lower back is now killing me.

And my knee, which is beautifully bruised.

Damn it.

I was supposed to go to Wyrdsmiths tonight, but I'm just not feeling up for it.  Not only does my body hurt, but I'm just kind of feeling defeated.  The other day Mason asked me how my Satan novel was going and I confessed I hadn't written much.  His reply was, "Have you lost all ambition?" And his question has been haunting me.  I think I have answer.  I think it's: No, not quite all.  But, in the meantime, I've promised him to at LEAST write on my novel one day a week.  In talking to Shawn I've decided to make it an hour a day, but regardless, I have made a specific goal and a specific promise that I have every intention of trying to keep.

I don't want to disappoint my son, after all.

But, at the moment, I feel a bit like a sore, old loser-head, so I'm going to take a warm bath and hide under the blankets.