And I am groveling away at Chill. Page 133. It still hasn't fallen apart in a giant heap of suck, which makes me even more apprehensive that the giant pile of suck must be around the next corner. Because I distinctly remember giant piles of suck in this book.
Maybe I got most of it the last time I vacuumed? It seems like too much to hope for, but so far it's holding together pretty well. Or maybe I'm just delusional from reading and revising it too many times.