Warning: Pity Party I've spent the last couple of weeks packing, cleaning, moving, unpacking and throwing out my back. I took the whole week off work because of the back thing. Good thing I did, though, or I wouldn't even be as far along with unpacking as I am. The townhouse I've moved into is very small, but it has 3 floors. Lots of stairs. Good for burning flab, but rough on the back.
The actual time of the move was the day the Denver area posted record-breaking cold temps. My moving guys were snarly at having to work in such cold. One fellow in particular gave new meaning to the combo sigh/eye roll. Couldn't blame them, but I'm starting to think there's no such thing as a really good moving company.
I have a deadline to complete my own rewrite on The Vampire Shrink (I wonder if that's what the title will be in the new edition? I'm pretty sure we're changing the name of the second book.) before I turn it over to my editor, for her official read and actual edits. Prior to yesterday afternoon, I hadn't even found the box with my manuscript materials so I could jump back into the process.
As long as I sit on a bunch of pillows, I can type for short periods of time.
If I mention a year from now that I'm moving again, please remind me of this post. Like with childbirth, I tend to forget the pain.
Lucky there was a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator.