Have been exhausted but still on edge all day. Must go to Philly tomorrow, back Fri., up to CT early Sat, so that accounts for some of it: packing 2 bags, ironing 2 travel outfits... Mostly, though, it's this: since early last Sunday, when I barely managed to leave Indianapolis, it's been a helluva week. What with Sandy S. Frankenstorm and the cold darkness she brought to my apt; wondering when the hell power would come back, and where the hell to buy milk; then the nail-biting election; now this new storm here which made me do on-again-off-again with the trip to Philly; and oh yeah, I have a book to finish -- tension, you say? Maybe a little.

But I have heat and light now. Milk, too. I have great friends who got me through the week, and other friends I helped get through. My man got re-elected, and though I know some of you weren't on his side, I really, deeply believe he'll show himself to have been the right choice. I'm going to Philly to spend 24 hours among writers and readers, then racing up to CT for a big family event. How could I be anything but grateful?

Now, if someone could just come up with a plausible reason for nine characters who've spent 275 pages avoiding each other to end up on the same staircase up the Janiculum Hill, I'd be deliriously happy. Or maybe just thinking I can make it work is delirium itself...