The bottom of a tall, teetery stack

That feeling, when you’re finally, finally getting to the end of a pile of work; the type of pile of work that you kept seeing the end of, until! until! something would happen and it would pile some more, your date of freedom pushed even further back.  That feeling is brilliant!  Knowing that you are nearly done, that no more surprise bits and pieces can sneak themselves is so freeing.

I have been chewing on my own, metaphorical stack, although I have had jobs where the stack was physical, this one, luckily, is under enough of my control that it’s not.  I got double-booked and then some favors added on and I’ve been running to catch up.  This weekend though, this beautiful weekend, was nearly all of it even though I took a break for a caber toss or two.

Can we talk about how amazing the caber toss is? A sport consisting of throwing something amazingly heavy and unwealdly judged not by amount of weight or farthest thrown but rather how daintily and accurately thrown.  Plus one where you can pay only $12 to see the world champion compete and lose happily to a novice while also getting some dogs to pet and excellent shortbread for your time.

The pile, yes the pile.  It’s nearly done, a map to draw, handful of pages of editing left, and then I’ll be uneumbered with nothing on the horizon as if I was a fifth grader sitting through those last hot days before summer vacation.  If I were a real adult about it, I should be worried about where the next paycheck is coming from, if there’s anyway to get my clients to space themselves out a little bit; instead I’m imagining a big cup of lemonade, the shady bit of grass under a tree in the evening when it’s not so hot, and a good trashy novel with vampires or werewolves or witches in it.

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