This Mortal Coil

I finished my paper edit of the seventh story last night. I'd had a slow day and had not got much done - I needed to do some research and, as always, did far too much - but at ten o'clock at night a mixture of inspiration and guilt pulled me away from the tv and placed manuscript and pen in my hand. I finished just shy of midnight, one day ahead of my self-imposed deadline. I don't think I've ever written so late in the day before, apart from when I dream an idea and sleepily scrawl it on my nightstand notepad.

Now I'm supposed to be rewriting but I'm impatiently waiting for my brand new laptop to arrive. I know that once I have it in my clammy little paws I'll be playing around with it all day, backing up my old laptop and fiddling with the unfamiliar features and applications of the new one.

Only last week my current laptop started to wheeze like an emphysema patient and follow commands at positively arthritic speeds. It's as if it knows I'm moving on...and so can finally let go. Or something.