Okay, my re-entry back into real life is almost complete. Thanks to cleaning under beds, doing more laundry than a Kennmore front-loader, and restocking all the crazy on the shelves, I'm almost there. Next week, if I make it to the long-neglected gym and our new baby yoga class, with a rogue trip to the pediatrician's office for at least one of them, I am officially back in the swing. What a long stange trip it's been.
This week also marks some other significant mental milestones. It's my birthday (Wednesday, not today so hold your e-cards)and in addition to turning an even number which somehow in my mind is more attractive than the an odd, I had made the mental declaration that I would be finished or close to the closing chapters of my novel.
This did not happen.
But I realize now, that in order to do it right, it was an unrealistic goal anyway. I am much further than I ever thought I would be, and I can declare 1/4 of the way done, but I think it was the most difficult and time-consuming quarter of the process. So I'm giving myself the gift of congratulating myself for making it this far, even after long-neglecting our heroine who has been left unceremoniously at a Halloween party for the last three weeks listening to "Monster Mash" play over and over and over.
But it was a graveyard smash.
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