As in, I will write the bloody things when they want to be written, and stop worrying about them hanging around cluttering up the place with their unfinishedness.
Also, I'm giving up on the damned Las Vegas story. It's a clever conceit--the idea was a fictional casino's special guest services team, confronted with the occasional really outre V.I.P.--for example the vampire who wants to go golfing at two am--but I think I may be two far out of hate with Las Vegas after ten months back in civilization to write it with the venom it deserves. Also, humor is not really my thing.
I'm sure they'll get written eventually, and in the meantime, I refuse to stress about it anymore.
I have enough things that I actually do need to stress about that I could be kicking myself over.
Like this novel proposal and these two novelettes that I need to hand in by the end of the year...