The thing I miss most about being a child—other than the senses of perfect security and endless time—is that when you're sick, you're allowed to lay down with a blanket tucked around you, drink soda from a special cup, and feel totally free from all obligation to make any mental or physical effort.
But hey, I have it pretty good. I did actually spend almost all of today laying down with a blanket tucked around me.
As for mental effort, I've got nothing. So I give you YA Highway on the moose in the living room and other novel-writing difficulties. Enjoy.
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