It's been a busy few days. Yesterday we finished off the March issue of A Certain Magazine, which entailed working a 10.5 hour day, which wasn't much fun, especially knowing that much of the country -- including my wife -- had the day off for President's Day. (I celebrated President's Day by continuing to listen to an audiobook of Sarah Vowell's Assassination Vacation. It's the kind of book that reminds me why I love history.) My boss sprang for pizza, though, and I went home and drank margaritas, so it was not a day without pleasures. I didn't get any writing of my own done, though, being pretty computer-averse by the time I made it home.

The weekend was spent largely in the throes of cleaning our house. Beyond the usual sort of dishes-and-laundry-and-straightening, Heather also laundered our giant living room curtains (which were monstrous accretions of cat hair and dust), and we cleaned the windows. The living room is now remarkably brighter -- who knew how much sunlight dust could block? -- and the snowy white curtains make it look all crisp and beautiful. I took out many loads of recycling and trash, and moved some stuff to the garage, and generally tried to make a dent in our too-much-stuff, too-little-space problem. We still have a lot of clutter to deal with, but much progress was made. Though, again, what with all the cleaning and so forth (and going out for dinner and to see Syriana), I didn't get anything in the way of writing done.

I haven't written anything in about a week, actually, and I need to, soon, because I'm becoming anxious about it.

But, hey. Tomorrow's my day off, and I should be able to get a lot done. I have three weeks until I need to have the novel finished so people can read it before Blue Heaven. It'll be a lot of work, but it's doable.