Dear websites,

I am willing to deal with the ads. I am willing to wait for the ad to play for a few seconds before I can read the article I came for.

What I am not okay with is getting to the middle of the article, then suddenly having the letters blocked by an ad, and then being jerked back to the top of the article, usually with some kind of image now half blocking the words.

You can advertise without making your website completely unuseable.

No love,

Me.

Me: Here I am, writing! Getting stuff done!
My brain: Remember that super horrible thing that happened when you were 4?
Me: I do now, thanks so much.

Well, I had trouble all day making myself sit down and write, so finally I told myself that I couldn’t watch Supergirl tonight (it’s a Lena episode) unless I wrote 100 words.

So I banged out 600 words (once you get started it’s usually not so hard) and then it turned out the listings were wrong and Supergirl isn’t airing tonight. 

No fair.

But at least it got me writing.

BTW, I have a bad flu so answering emails and other constructive behavior will have to wait till the germs are through torturing me.

The morning’s emails: So, several of the things you tried to accomplish last night went totally wrong.
Me: Of course they did.
The morning’s emails: Everyone is mad at you.
Me: I know.
Rationality: They probably aren’t mad. Mildly piqued at most, prolly not even that.
Me: Don’t talk to me, I have to hide under my bed for the next three years.
ETA:
The morning’s snailmails: Aww, cheer up. Here’s a royalty check for that original story you wrote. Have $3.85!
Me: Thanks.

The morning’s emails: So, several of the things you tried to accomplish last night went totally wrong.
Me: Of course they did.
The morning’s emails: Everyone is mad at you.
Me: I know.
Rationality: They probably aren’t mad. Mildly piqued at most, prolly not even that.
Me: Don’t talk to me, I have to hide under my bed for the next three years.

Me: C’mon, brain, I need to write!
Brain: Don’t wanna.
Me: Please!
Brain: Oh, so you’re going to keep hassling me over this writing thing? Fine, I’ll distract you by dredging up painful memories.
Me: …Brain, if you break out the Loki, you’re not getting any alcohol for a week.