Because it's just a headcold, I did feel well enough to truck out to Logee's today, which was therapeutic. There's nothing quite like wandering around giant greenhouses full of oranges and banana plants and bougainvillea to make winter easier to take.
I got 1,196 words on that s2 Shadow Unit story I am not writing yesterday, thus filling in all the important character bits of the story. Which is nice, because it means next year I just have to write the plot. Meanwhile, Chill continues to loiter unresponsiblely on streetcorners and swear when it stumbles home drunk at 2:30 in the morning that it's been looking for work.
It occurs to me that this book might actually go better if I had some idea what it is these people want, and what they're afraid of. And what they need to learn, by the end.