Out of my hair and into two very tolerant inboxes. Now I can write short stories for awhile. Or maybe a different damn novel. Or both. Parallax on the suckage, that's what we're going for here. "Yes, I see that it sucks, but can you help me pinpoint on which axis it might suck?" Sigh. I'm not even going to bother starting to print the in-house copy until tomorrow.
And now my day off tomorrow will actually feel like a day off. Maybe. I hope.
I'm going to crash and read some more of Colin Cotterill's Thirty-Three Teeth, which I like a lot so far.