I have an apartment! Woot!

I don’t get to move in for another month, but at least hope hoves into view on the horizon. Bigger than my last place, same rent. It’s actually got a “dining room” where I can hopefully erect my computer/studio, possibly freeing up the bedroom to be merely a bedroom, a mad decadance I can barely fathom. I’d really prefer having the studio out in the main room anyway, where I can watch TV or listen to the radio, and consult my computer, etc, but I hardly know how to consider a bedroom that’s just a bedroom. Madness! Insanity! Good feng shui!* 

I might even be able to fit another chair in there. I could have guests over!  Good god! The world reels! 

Meanwhile, I’ve been getting Digger done, and whipped off the Nurk cover over the weekend, much to the rejoicing of my editor, art director, et al, all of whom called me to tell me that really, honestly, they swear, they are not in the habit of asking for a cover in three days under any normal circumstances.

The problem with working miracles, of course, is that occasionally people start to expect them, so we’ll see if this really was abnormal, or if I’m going to get forty-eight hours for Nurk II, and if by Nurk XXV: Shrew vs. Predator, the covers will be expected before the book is actually written. (Actually, for Shrew vs. Predator, presumably the cover would be the only part of actual merit…)  Still, there’s a definite ego boost to performing a superhuman feat of that sort.

Appetite starting to return, thankfully, and the faintness is now generally confined to the early mornings. I’m definitely feeling better, too–I still have up days and down days, and the downs are still pretty far down, but the phantom anvil is, if not gone, at least lightening a bit. The latest Pratchett and a diet of P.G. Wodehouse helps. The anxiety is lessening, too–whether my miseries are becoming blunted from repeated handling, like water-smoothed pebbles, or whether the ‘ol seratonin levels are starting to perk up, I couldn’t say. (The problem with examining the workings of your brain, of course, is that you have to use your brain to do it. I am an unreliable observer, ergo my observations of my unreliability are themselves unreliable. It’s enough to make your head hurt. No wonder psychology is a “soft” science…)

*I do not believe in feng shui per se, but am willing to allow certain practical principles for dwelling in a space are encapsulated therein, without goin’ nuts and buying bamboo flutes for every available surface. 

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