This morning I told someone it looked like a kitcheny day, but I think it looks like a kitcheny week. There are just several things that seem like a good idea even aside from, y'know, regular meals. My freezer runneth over.
The book is booking away. Still merrily, despite being definitively into the [gulp] middle third. I would be happier if my protagonist didn't think she got to have sex every chapter. Well. I will just have to be firm with her, is all. Because this is not that kind of book.
Hmm. Apparently it's only a little bit that kind of book. But the theory of it not being that kind of book remains sound. Sound-ish. Sort of.