Sorta goes with the solstice, I guess. Consolidated the chapter files of SIGNATURES into one 95,000 word, 450 page hunk. We've hacked at it and niggled at it and now I'll print the latest version off and proofread it again, trying to find those sneaky bastard errors that I've read straight over five times already. Then send it off to Nice Agent Lady.
And the trees whimpered in fear.
Wandered around this afternoon in the Stephen King Memorial Laundry, avoiding drifts of hazardous waste and pitfalls and the occasional rat, preparation for actually drawing up some apartment units to fit inside. Nothing wrong there that a gallon of kerosene wouldn't cure. If I could post pictures to this free account, I'd show you some of the forty-fifty I took, proving that I am not, for once, exaggerating.
