Apparently my brain is fresh out of give a shit. I got 1300 words today. I got 1300 words yesterday. At 1300 words both days my brain said, "Ok, fine, that's it, you're done," and sitting there at the computer, whether staring at the word processor or solitaire, did nothing except impress upon me that I just don't give a fig. I want to have this book done, but there seems to be a wall against working on it for too long, possibly because I am sick to goddamned death of it. So, okay, fine. If I can't impress a sense of urgency on my brain, I'lll continue onward at 1300 words a day until it's done. Deadlines are moving targets. I can live with that. I'll get it done. This is why my working schedule has as many months of slip time worked into it as I can manage.
I think I'll walk down into Cobh and put a DVD in the mail.