TAPOAFOM*

· bodega

Ten hours sleep, weird feverish dreams (about all-hands meetings in strange nonexistent hybrid entities, about chapters to be revised, about people I worked with ten years ago), and then waking with that remarkable feeling: the worst of the deadlines have passed. There are just incidentals left to handle (intro, acknowledgements, dedication, part openers, color insert, CD content) and the flood of other priorities, obligations, and wishes begins to crowd in. But no matter, today I feel free.
*The awesome power of a fully operational mothership

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