Yesterday delivered a double whammy; the house purchase got slowed down, and I'm having issues with the UK bureaucracy.
That made me grab boxing gloves and punch the shit out of the pads. Nothing drives me like anger, and I want to get fit now so I can join my partner in the boxing gym. He's now doing "head sparring", which means punches to the heads are allowed, and goes boxing three times a week.
Tonight, we'll go to the gym to do some work on the pads; they have more space there and a large bag I can hit with all I'm worth. I can't *wait* to run myself into the ground and hit shit until I can't go on anymore.
In lieu of writing, I cleaned up three chapters of "Iron Cross" and am now printing out the "master copy", as I call it, which is the paper printout I'll use to edit what I have. The last two days were absolutely poisonous for my productivity, but I'm reading a book on the Trakehner horses, so at least I'm getting somewhere with my research.
So, yeah, yesterday gets cancelled, and the rest of the week ahead looks mad and unpleasant, and I can't take holidays because I'm on several deadlines, so I can't even escape for a long weekend or so. Right now, hunkering down and getting shit done is the only way to cope with stuff.
No news from the publisher I sent stuff to in November.