Satellite has become my office. Christ, when did this happen? I'm thirty-nine pages out from being DONE! done and I CAN'T WRITE AT HOME!

Thirty-nine pages.

Done.

Can't write a word. So I should go to Satellite right? Satellite with its amazing vanilla lattes and the triple ginger cookies that really fuel the creative process...

Only Adam's fabricating a part for his car (hawt!) and has commandeered both cars for the project. His car's currently undriveable and he's gotta go on at least one belt run and "you weren't gonna be doing anything today, right?"

Augh!

Around his dremmeling, Freud said I was creating a block and it was all in my head and sometimes coffee was just coffee and I was like "DOY!"

However, my mom's coming over to whisk me away in her car to the land of coffee where I am hoping to finish this this afternoon, if only so I can say, "yeah? That? Totally done."