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.

Today I'm going to print my recently re-written manuscript (hopefully for the last time) to give it another once-over, although, in reality, it should be called the ninth- or tenth-over.  On my last re-write, I realized how long ago I started this thing when I discovered the main character had a different name in the first chapter.  Jeez.

I finished the two scenes - this took way longer than it should have, considering how beastly one of the antagonists is.  Now all I have to do is re-read the entire manuscript and see what else I should change.  I feel like I'm gonna turn out like the uncle in the attic in 'One Crazy Summer'.

I just have two scenes left.  I swear.  Somehow, though, it's easier to write on this thing than where I'm supposed to.