I have no words left with which to blog, but I eked out four thousand words today, which is something close to twenty pages. And I think they were mostly really good words, but it's hard to tell now, and I'm daunted by how much I have left to do. Or perhaps I'm daunted by how tired I am; I didn't sleep as well as I had planned to last night, which made me groggy this morning. And I had two glasses of wine at dinner, which never bodes well for late-evening productivity - but I was deep in the zone and working over dinner, so that was totally worth it. The guy at my favorite French place asked me why I was there 'early', since he usually sees me on Sundays instead of Saturdays (not every Sunday, but still) - so I suppose it's clear that I have an addiction to their steak frites and their cabernet blend.
The rest of the day is thoroughly uninteresting, I'm sure; I ate breakfast, procrastinated, wrote, read articles online, wrote, talked to my mother while sitting on the roof in the vain attempt to pretend that I'd gotten out of the house, wrote, and had dinner down the street. Then I came home, wrote for a bit longer, took a bath (in which I think I fell asleep), tried to write, and instead answered a few of the many business/personal emails that I've been neglecting for weeks.
And now, I must sleep if I'm going to get up early tomorrow and conquer the day as I intend to. Goodnight!
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