Actually, very little celebration has been going on.
I was so bone tired on Friday that I was coming down with a cold, so I got in bed at 4:30 and failed to get out again until 6 the next morning. It was much needed rest, the kind that your body just sort of seizes from you when you are too idiotic to take care of it yourself.
Writing is chugging along. I am amazed at how much difference practice makes in how quickly I can compose, though the editing process remains long. Thomas has been letting me read aloud to him, which is a tremendous help, as suddenly I can hear that adverbs have totally run away with me once again, and that I have used the word wound eight times in two paragraphs.
I loaded Thomas's iPod yesterday, so that is good. And I have managed to create two separate libraries in iTunes, so that my precious iPod will not be sullied with prewar Jazz, nor will Thomas have to put up with my love of Morrissey.
Otherwise, life is quiet. I had my hair cut today and it is way, way too short, but time will fix that, I suppose. As it does all things.