Behind this window I am finally writing again, catching up on all the 1,000-word days I lost when my husband was sick and in hospital. This is critical, as my book delivery date has not changed. A dear friend wanted to come by and visit us this afternoon, but I finally know what do in the chapter I'm working on, the sentences are flowing at last, and so I decided to be honest and tell our friend that I don't want to pause in the writing to get dressed for the day or to tidy the house and could we maybe figure something out for the weekend instead. I don't want her to think we don't appreciate her. We are definitely looking forward to seeing her. But I am only at fifty-three thousand words and I have to get to seventy-five thousand in the next month or so, and then begins the work of editing and revising the completed draft. Our friend is an artist and a worker among workers. She says she understands. I trust this is true.