When last we saw our heroine…

…she had just handed a novel in to her editor on sudden death overtime.

There’s some validity to the argument that the urge to write is a sickness; the best is the aftermath of Having Written — which like recovering from a bad case of the flu.  You’re irritable, your brain is mushy, your balance is slightly off, and you feel that you’ve forgotten how to do quite simple and ordinary things, like, oh, drive a car.

Despite this, my next act after emailing Ghost Ship to Toni was to get in the Little Green Subaru and follow Steve to Augusta (following Steve because I wasn’t sure I could actually find Augusta) to drop this same LGS at the shop.

That task completed, Steve drove us out west, pausing at the Readfield Public Beach, where we walked the four feet of sand beach, admired the ducks, and, in the absence of small children (we qualifying as large children) used the swings and the jungle gym.

On the way home, Steve proposed take-out Chinese, which sounded splendid to me, so we feasted and thus to bed, and the next day early to work.

…over which we shall pass lightly, except to say that all of the Very Important Tasks that had Piled Up while I was away on Monday were retired and no babies died.

Came home after claiming the LGS from the shop, collapsed on the couch with Hexapuma, who graciously shared his floofy snowflake blanket, read a few pages of a book written by somebody who is not me, had dinner with Steve and early to bed.

Yesterday, arrived at the day-job to find a bomb threat in process.  Not in my building, fortunately, so I was free to go up to the office, and, later, down to the bottom of the campus for a budget meeting where there was, thank ghod, coffee, and also to tend to the various minutiae for which I of course live.  Came home, dealt with some professional correspondence, then back with Hex and the book to the sofa until Steve came home, soaked and bearing pizza.

Steve this morning  is leaving for AlbaCon, while I to the day-job.  My personal goal today is to make lists of all the various things that were let to lapse while Ghost Ship got done, order them, and, tomorrow evening, start in.  I have, I believe, eight months of bookkeeping to enter, which, along with recovering the kitchen, should fill up the weekend handily.

The plan for this evening, beside the list, is to finish reading my book, so I can start reading another one.

Thanks very much to everyone who offered felicitations on finishing Ghost Ship — and I hope you’re all doing fun and exciting things!

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