We had some good machines, but they don't work no more.
mood: 
exhausted
exhaustedmusic: Shriekback-Faded Flowers
Words today: 1314
Words total: 83,634
Manuscript pages: 343 of 353
Reason for stopping: end of scene, too much party this weekend and too tired to do more.
Stimulants: Coffeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Mammalian assistance: Boy's home. Cats and dogs no longer love me.
Notecards obliterated: One (1)
Last exercise: Piggybacking a friend around the Fourth of July party last night
***
And that's it. All the dominos are set up. The next scene is the one that kicks things over and starts the long downhill slide to the mad furious crash at the end of the book.
Boom!
I'm starting to think that this puppy's going to wind up closer to 500 pages than to 400 but enh, what the heck. (Originally typed "I'm tarting to think," which sounds like more fun.)
But, butbutbut...
Boggle. Of course it is! Um. I have a horrid time with meter in poetry. I lay the blame on having a non-metered language as a mother tongue. But the meter of prose...oh, yes. Do you mean to say that many people do not realize this?
Am going back to pondering the "is