Onward and upward

[desperance]

I have 132 pages still to revise. It's Eliza Doolittle Day, one day before the Rapture, when I go to California (and thus get taken before any of you, on account of being in mid-air and thus closer already when the moment strikes); it's bright and sunny out there, and cold in here; there's a disjunct in the world. I've got snacks and bread and a bottle of wine, and I've forgotten to pack my sunglasses.

*hits it*