slow fumbling

I am depressed today, although I found curtain rods and hung curtains and hung out with friends and ate excellent food and made fast money and was given beetle-wing earrings. My sadness is not localized, although bits of it are to do with not treating Ciro well and other bits are to do with Iceland, which is one of my favorite countries and which is having a rough go of things. I have managed to add 153 words to the novel in the past few days; even considering my executive decision to extend November through 17 December, this cannot be thought of as auspicious progress.

1889 / 50000 words. 4% done!