Not where I want to be, for sure. I have my tiny little goal of ten pages each week (by Friday) and on Wednesday I've only managed three. And I think I need to go back and add some emotion on the section where they reach the lab. Having to go back does not make me feel better at actually getting done by the end of the world (or the end of September, whichever comes first).
Also for today, I cut my finger. (grumpy pouting here) The GI specialist suggested little boy have a hot drink in the mornings. Oddly enough he won't finish a hot cocoa, and while he'll drink hot tea out of my cup he won't drink his own. But he finishes coffee and asks for more any time we go out to a restaurant. So yesterday I bought instant coffee.
Coffee apparently hates me. I never would have guessed that protective foil layer to be so sharp, or that, after three trial cups, I would only be able to make something a little less than horrible. I wonder if there are classes for coffee making somewhere. It seems I need them.
But mostly I need to finish seven more pages in three days. Two and a half. Maybe less, I know I'm worthless for writing after about five on Friday. This should not be so hard, just evaluating and editing words on paper that I've already written and make them more compelling. (props to anyone who can't help but hear Zack Whedon's voice for that word) So here I go, turning to writing now. Right after I change little boy's diaper.