I just finished my last go-through of the MS when I stumbled upon the answer in the crammed spaces of my brain:  I was writing about mangy pines, not mangy pins.  You see, ". . . dirt fields and mangy pines raced by. . .".  

The main character is tearing through Russia, desperately searching for a way out of his dilemma, and, well . . . it's a long story.  I don't want to jinx him.  His name is Justin, by the way.

I was just one letter off, and I had no idea.  Time to hang it up for tonight!

I'm trying desperately to finish re-writing, and I came across the following sentence in my MS:  "She looked out the window as the dirt fields and mangy pins raced by."

What the heck are mangy pins?  I can only work on this stuff late at night, so when I write, my brain is the consistency of oatmeal.  Either I'm barely operating at the conscious level, or I'm just so tired sometimes my hands just take over and complete nonsense gets typed in. 

At this rate, India will complete a second lunar mission http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,442821,00.html

before I finish.   I have to get back to work - I'm drooling all over the keyboard.

. . .I'll be done with this book by 2014.  I'm kidding, of course.  It won't take that long, but one event that I swore would not take place before my book is done has already happened:  India will complete its first lunar mission.

Oh, the bitter taste of humble pie! 

I have my printed MS in front of me.  Just staring at me.  I had visions of me joyfully finishing up my last words like Kathleen Turner, excitedly, furiously typing as she ties up her story in 'Romancing the Stone'.  But I can't even keep my eyes open.  And I keep drooling.  Now I know why most novelists go completely insane. 

I figured out that I have spent exactly 3 minutes and 51 seconds per night on this whole writing thing in the last two weeks.  Oh, and I didn't get a chance to print my MS yesterday, or the day before.  And it took me almost five minutes to compose this post.