I consider myself extremely restrained for only putting in *one* caveat, when I sent the full novel draft to my agent just now.

Tomorrow, I teach, but after that, I think I might declare a holiday from *thinking* for at least a day.

88,510 words. In an approximation of coherent order. Now I pour myself into a bath. I think I can fit in one more Star Trek re-run before I collapse.

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