soreIt's sunny today, and the temperature is currently 82˚F. Someone on Twitter was wondering why I'm so "obsessed" with the weather. Why wouldn't I be? I do not exist independently of the weather. My head is jacked directly into it. My moods swing in almost perfect synchronization with the weather.
Yesterday, despite the headache, I actually managed to write 2,084 words on Agents of Dreamland. I'm now a mere 3,331 words from THE END. In theory, I could finish by tomorrow evening, if I could have another day like yesterday. However, I don't expect to. I expect the end to be difficult. But I shouldn't have any trouble finishing by Thursday evening.
I'm relieved, perhaps a little prematurely.
Yesterday, one year ago, we arrived in Birmingham. It's hard to believe it's been a year since I was in Leeds. I'm so very homesick. And to compound that we're talking about possibly remaining in Providence another year. Another year means another winter, and I simply don't know how I'll manage that.
Both comments and overall traffic to this journal are at an all-time low.
Time to work.
TTFN,
Aunt Beast