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The book is off to New York. Hallefreakingluiah! I’m so tired I can’t see straight. Jon’s not much better. The only down side to bringing him into more of the editing and research work is that when I finish a book he’s a beat as I am. It used to be only me walking around like some kind of catastrophe survivor, now it’s both of us.

I celebrated yesterday afternoon by retiring to the bath. We all have our little indulgences, I hit nearly all of mine. A hot bath, a good book, really good chocolate, cold bottled water (that whole not drinking thing), and a bath tub that has enough water jets to beat the aches out of my muscles, and some happiness into the rest of my body. I love our bath tub. I was pretty brain fried, but I knew I needed to read somebody else’s book. Something I didn’t have to come up with, was what was needed. I chose a Robert B. Parker book that I’d read once before, but he’s one of my favorite writers, and his Spenser series bears repeating. Then bed at an early hour for both my husband and me, and some relax time.

We got to stay in bed a little later than usual, but not much; when you have children you really don’t have an option. But that migraine that I had a few days back, is hanging on, which means it’s probably a stress headache and not a migraine, though sometimes I’d love for a doctor to explain the difference. There really are differences, but to the patient, it feels damn simular. You just don’t get the sensitivity to light, the halo effect, or some of the other goodies. But it still feels like my whole body has a hangover. It may be in part allergies, but I’m betting stress, and just a human body not being made to sit at a desk for hours at a time. Jon and I did manage to take a nap in the afternoon and felt some better. But as I type this, early bed sounds very good.

I’m actually taking a few days off. Today was one. Tomorrow maybe I’ll actually go to the plant store, or see one of my friends in person instead of just on the phone. Usually I flounder when I finish a book, but this time all I want to do is sit and stare at nothing for a few days. I want to do things that have nothing to do with writing. I don’t want to have to come up with an idea, or a solution to a plot point, or discover that transition to that moment of character development. I want to read other people’s books, watch the television we’ve had to record but not watch, visit with friends, and do things with my husband that don’t involve work.

Friends and family are urging us to go away on a trip for a few days. Maybe later. Right now, the thought of planning even a fun trip just makes me more tired. Jon just let me know that dinner is ready. He grilled. I cut and diced. Team work.