I continue to drain myself down to the dregs. Today was brutality piled on top of more brutality, with a thin veneer of fun. I woke up earlyish but was really dragging, and traffic was not ideal, so I didn't get to work until 8:15, which didn't give me time to write before starting my meetings. But I did my meetings, did a bit of work, had lunch with a coworker, did some more meetings, and then slacked off early to get drinks with several coworkers (somewhat to welcome our new teammate, somewhat to socialize). Then I drove to Stanford and worked at Stanford library for a couple of hours - I've written at least part of every book there, and I hadn't done anything for Thorington there yet, so it seemed symbolic to work on the ending there.
And it was great for my productivity - I can practically smell the end, and the whole thing has come together in a way I'm pretty happy with. But I was so tired that I left at ten even though I wanted to keep going because I was afraid that I would kill myself if I waited any later to drive home. So I got home, washed my face, and wrote for the last half hour. But I've hit the very hardest part of the wall, and I have to work tomorrow (although I'm going to do it from home), and I also have to pack, and so I think sleep would serve me better than anything right now.
Wish me luck that I can finish my edits tomorrow! If I do, I think I'll see how I'm feeling about it, and then either a) proofread on the plane, or b) what's looking more likely is relax on the plane, then relax all weekend, then proofread in the wee jetlag hours around my offsite next week. Doesn't that sound like fun? Goodnight!
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