Monday (forgot to post this) 4346 words.
Today, so far, 2600 words.
With the Great Revelation of Kieri's future wife's identity. (Bwah-ha-ha-hah...you're going to have to wait...)
I will say many of you will probably figure it out and be cheering her on, but I wasn't sure and he didn't have a clue...he's been...um...very, very busy since he was crowned.
The end is definitely near. I had promised my editor that people would know who she was (even if the marriage didn't happen in this volume and it won't) by the end of this volume. Never fear--there are more to come.
One of the things they don't tell you in the tractor manual is to look under the mowing deck before starting to mow.
For instance, there might be a skunk under it, who thought it was a nice warm place out of a cold wind last night.
And the skunk who is waked up in broad daylight, assailed by noise and movement and forced to scramble along inside the mower deck as you warm up the engine before turning on the shredder is not a happy skunk.
And unhappy skunks...well.
Note to self: always raise the mower deck enough for something to escape from it before driving away.
Mr/Ms Skunk was last seen lolloping down the fenceline in high dudgeon. I hope it's OK. I didn't go ask it. It was in no mood to be interrogated by the Rude Person who turned on the tractor.
Apparently I've caught what R- has and am going to be coughing, sneezing, snorting, dripping, and blowing my nose like a foghorn for the next howevermany days.
The writing was booming along earlier and I went out to do some much-needed mowing in the pasture before deer season starts (no one in their right mind rides around on a big green tractor in the first few weeks of deer season, because someone will think the roll bar is antlers or something) and then took M- to work and shipped off a package, bought staples (the kind that puncture paper, not the kind that get you through the winter) and 3x5 cards and bird seed (no use driving 20 miles to town and not doing any shopping) and came home and....about 7 or 7:30 tonight, the head clogged up and the writer brain turned off. This is not a good time, I told it, and it told me things I can't say in a public forum. When my sinuses begin to pulsate out the *back* of my head, they are not polite.
Remember about LJ's scheduled downtime tomorrow. I'm not sicker; they're just unavailable.