There Isn't a Moral At the End of This

via moiI have now been at Clickitting for a week (give or take a few hours).  I'm not going to lie, moving at six-and-a-half months pregnant is a wearying, emotional experience, but some people have put up with worse.  After only seven days, a few of which were interrupted by workers at the house and the general unboxing late into the night, I have not cobbled together any semblance of a routine.  Poor Talldogs, which had really begun to roll during my last days staying at my parents' house, is once more sullenly waiting for me to cease feeling like an ant whose anthill has been kicked over.  Clickitting is very long: I spend a lot of time walking, walking and complaining that my back aches.  And when I do sit down at the computer, I have a roomful of unpacked boxes behind me, silently judging my immobility.  It puts a damper on creativity.

They gave me this huge kitchen, which is awesome, but I'm the member of the family which is all, "IS FLOUR THE STUFF THAT EXPLODES I CAN'T REMEMBER."

Constructively, I have been answering some very lovely questions by a handful of bloggers, which will be posted along with their participating posts in Plenilune's cover reveal (October 6th), and I have been throwing pertinent information (including my edited manuscript) at my formatters.  I've been monitoring readers' progress on Goodreads, and I must say, the enthusiasm is wonderful!  October 20th will be here before we know it!

panic