I seem to have begun my cavorting prematurely...

So here I was, on Monday morning, having just put the boxed-up manuscript of Knife in the mail, and thinking happily of all the things I've had to ignore or postpone in the past month that I can now get around to doing, including an essay or two I want to write for this blog (one of them a very belated response to a nifty theological question from Kate Orman), when all of a sudden, WHOMP, I got hit with some weird virus involving nausea, cramps, severe lower backache, and killer fatigue that knocked me down for the past 48 hours. Anyway, I'm recovering now, but I still feel rather flat, so it may be another couple of days before I can work up the energy to get to the Good Stuff.

Also, the baby seems to have decided that breathing is highly overrated -- not for him, but for me. Ah, the delirious joys of the third trimester, I tell you. To borrow a phrase from the White King, there's nothing like it.