The Undiscovered Country

Well, Poop.

Socrates apparently once said, "Everything in moderation, nothing in excess."

There is a price to be paid for everything, and as of now, I am paying the price for not being moderate in my writing.

Since I've picked up "The Keeper," I am now up to 19k words and a desire to keep on going.

My body, however, is now protesting loudly for my excess.

As of a few hours ago, every time I move my wrist, I feel a sharp pain from my pinky to halfway down my forearm.

I've had this pain before. Tendonitis.

Crappity, crap, crap, crap, crap crap.

I don't want to stop! Or even slow down, but I have to lest I exacerbate it further.

Harrumph.