Today was ridiculously busy, but I'm oddly in quite a good mood despite it all. I woke up around six and took too much time getting ready, so I wasn't able to write before going to the gym, but that may have been too much to expect. But I left in time to make it to Palo Alto without being late, so that was something. I trained with Alyssa, showered, went to work, slogged for a couple of hours (with a break to attempt to eat a rib, which was a messy proposition while standing at a table near my cube), and then had meetings from one to five. I then washed my coffee mug, switched into yoga pants, and drove home - and I'm glad I got comfortable, since it took an hour and forty-five minutes, with enough stop-and-go that I almost made myself carsick. Blech.
But when I got home, I spent ninety minutes talking to another historical romance writer on the phone, and then I watched the last quarter of the Stanford/Oregon game, which got far too exciting for a few minutes. Then, when victory was in hand, I went down the street to my favorite expensive French bistro, where I worked on Prudence, ate steak, and continued to befriend the staff (the main guy on duty, Stephen/Steven, comped me some wine, so clearly they have added me to their list of odd eccentrics who must be appeased). And now I must go to bed - I'm taking tomorrow off so that I have a three-day weekend in which to wrap up the most pressing remaining stuff with Prudence, so I have grand plans to make tomorrow super productive. And I'm getting a facial and a haircut, which is less productive but perhaps just as necessary for my vanity. Hopefully I can get through everything this weekend, get the book out in ten days or so, and then be done with this so that I can take a break, remind my friends that I exist and that I love them despite my absence, and then begin this whole sad, epic torture all over again with my next book. Goodnight!
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