While I was suffering through this neck pain recently I kept wondering why my head feels so heavy. Which led me to contemplate the weight of a human head, and how it’s possible for it to feel heavier when there’s pain. So, naturally, I googled and learned a few things.
The first statistic that came up was that a human head weighs around 5 kg or 11 lbs. 😳
To put this in perspective, my son weighed 8 lbs 6 oz when he was born and his sister 2 lbs less.
So, technically, a newborn baby is less heavy than your head. 😯
I took my little desk back from the girl child. I gave it to her to use as a craft corner some time ago – but now, I need it back.
It has become obvious that my continued neck pain is partially caused by the un-ergonomic spaces I have to write in. Dining room tables, couches, beds…it’s causing me all sorts of grief, to the point of spasming last night that reduced me to tears.
I could not get relief in any position, not standing, not sitting, not lying down. I have a pillow filled with water, even that didn’t help. I never noticed before how heavy my head is. 🙄
I took Advil and Tylenol, then an hour later two more.
As you know I signed up for a couple of dating apps as a way to supplement my fiction writing, and given by the feedback on that introductory post from many of you, it appears you want to know more about my experience.
Disclaimer: I’m going to describe a family situation that irritated me. I’m only doing this because Toronto’s strict lockdown measures are getting us all beyond frustrated, plus the weather has turned much colder making outdoor activities a little less enjoyable, meaning we spend even more time inside together. I’m just saying, we’re all feeling the strain of being together so much in this small house for so long (10 months and counting). Read with a grain of salt. Don’t pity me, I’m fine. And be nice with your comments. 😉
If you’ve read here a while then you know I like to write fiction. Some of you know I write erotic/romantic fiction. Lately, I’ve been on a roll with a particular story that is now into Chapter 10, and I’m not done.
I write at the dining room table facing the open concept kitchen in front of me. The living room is to the left of me.
The family is not here for the most part – the husband teachers his college students in his basement office, the kids are plugged in to their virtual classrooms in their basement rooms.
I take those moments when they’re schooling to focus and write. All good so far, right?
Good morning from a freezing cold bedroom. I had both the heater and the electric blanket going, and when I was warmed up, went to make coffee, and returned to the bedroom with my hot mug where I immediately felt overheated.
I have been writing like a maniac. This is good, right?
I resurrected an erotic romance story (novel? novella?) I started about a year and a half ago with many chapters, and supplemented/edited it in the past few days. I think out of the 50k+ words, probably half are ready for an editor to go through with a fine-tooth comb. But I’ll get the rest completed first before sending it out to have it proofread. I plan on publishing on kindle.