After all the moving and shifting around I did, yesterday, stirring up such a lovely cloud of dust the sun sparkled through it, my nose is now getting even with me. Is there such a thing as a sinus transplant? If there isn't, will somebody please use me a guinea pig? I hate alternating between not being able to breathe and not being able to stop sneezing. And this was with me wearing a MASK all day and leaving the windows open. Jeez.
I've decided to let Antony lead me wherever the hell he wants to, right now, and argue with him over the complexity once it's concluded. Because I can see another situation building that will go on for a couple or few chapters and -- oh, shit. You little bastard. Oh, I hate you, Antony, I like it so much. VERY Hitchcockian.
Okay -- gotta go write and sneeze. Maybe more later.