Irony?

I love how, the day after I write about writing more, I became deliriously sick and incapable of writing.  I mean, I could write — to say I couldn’t would be a lie, but to write with anything like clarity is another thing altogether, and clarity was something I was incapable of grasping.  Instead I grasped the TiVo remote, my favorite pillows, a roll of toilet paper (I can’t be the only person in the world who never thinks to buy Kleenex, can I?) and a bottle of cough syrup before taking to the sofa and dozily watching Animal Planet.

Anyway, my point is I’m starting to feel better.

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