It's been a hectic few
days weeks months, to say the least. I could sum up, but there is too much and, in the paradoxical way of these things, too little to bother. Cryptic, I know, but it is born of weariness.
The other night, being deprived of internet, I tallied up my work hours for the past little while. Turns out I've been working 90+ hour weeks for the past two months. No wonder I'm wearisome. So last night I rewarded myself with a bath, a bubble bath no less, which was a touch less restful than it might have been, owing to the cat's attempt to play with the bubbles. He didn't actually fall in, but it was a very near thing, and he's still not talking to me.
Today is my weekend from the dayjob, and, being the glutton for punishment I am, I intend to use it compiling the revision list for Pledged, so I can start in on the gamma draft for that and deliver it to the publishers sooner instead of later. I would of course prefer to rest, but if I want to eat next year, I should be virtuous. My ploy is to work slowly on two different projects, the gamma draft of Pledged and the alpha draft of the faerie novel, at the same time. That way, a change being as good as a holiday, I will get a holiday every day!
Or spontaneously implode. One or t'other.