Normally when I write in here and say that life is busy, I mean that it is busy, but I still have time to read the New York Times online.  I just prefer reading the Times to writing in here, most days; it's easier, and if I don't read the Times the day does not feel complete, but if I don't write in here I get by okay.

I mention this, because when I say that life is busy right now, I don't mean in that way.  I mean in the have-not-read-the-Times-all-week way.  In the behind-on-NaNo way.  The will-have-to-work-this-weekend-because-8-to-9-hours-of-work-a-day-is-not-enough way.  The having-a-party-tomorrow way.  The going-home-for-Thanksgiving way.  The leaving-the-country-in-two-weeks way.

(Two weeks!  Hurrah!)

I literally have not had a moment to relax.  Which is okay, overall, I am fine being busy.  What's less okay is knowing I'm going to have to work this weekend (ugh) and going back and forth about how stressed I should be about NaNo.  On the one hand, I have 37,700 words, which is pretty damn good - better than most people, I assume, since we're just over halfway through the month.  On the other hand, I am insanely busy, and I am just going to get busier, and I REALLY want to get to 50,000 words before Thanksgiving so I can relax about it.  Also, I said I would finish before Thanksgiving, and I am an insane, uptight person who hates missing deadlines, even self-imposed ones.  I've decided that, to finish by Thanksgiving, I need to write between 7,500 and 10,000 words this weekend.  While throwing a party.  And writing a paper for work.

I mentioned that I'm crazy right?  I'm crazy.