This has been a rough 7 day period. Between helping my oldest get her house ready to sell, making trips to the two youngest's schools--each an hour from home in opposite directions--to take them shopping, then my FIL ending up in intensive care with pneumonia and a small heart attack, I'm exhausted. Have I added one word to my revisions? Not in the last 5 or 6 days. It makes no sense. I have a big NYC publisher waiting for my book. And I dilly around, playing Mah Jong solitaire instead of writing. I need a hypnotist or something to tell me "you want to finish the da*n book. You will finish the da*n book."
FIL is doing better, is back in a regular room, and I got to go help the dh get a patio ready to pour. My muscles are screaming. No wonder dh doesn't have a weight problem when he eats twice as much as I do.