This is my treacherous dog, Philomena. See all that ice and snow? See that nice path we shoveled and blew for her? Well, she doesn’t care. She wants to jump up on top and run around. Which would be fine, except that at 30 pounds or so, she can go about ten or fifteen feet and then she falls through the ice layer and the snow’s so deep she can’t get out.

So today, while trying to keep her on the path we’d dug for her, I managed to fall on my butt, which sent a lovely shock right up my spine to the already herniated disc in my neck. These are things that heroines NEVER have to contend with. Why, oh why, can I not be a romance novel heroine?