Saturday Updates

We've had a couple of months now of rough nights and drowsy afternoons. We often wake little more than an hour after falling asleep, having had intense dreams. We get up and wander around for a while. We feel an almost unstoppable urge to eat. We're cranky and irritable even with the regimen. If the regimen doesn't work what is the point of the regimen? Changes are in order. 

We don't like to consult doctors as we've come to distrust them. Last November we had a severe foot problem even after taking all the doses, getting all the shots, wearing a brace, etc. The topic of surgery was broached. 'Get the hell out of my office,' we would have said had the appointment been taking place in our office. Or if we even had an office. Our thinking was thus: the doctors had failed with every other treatment, letting them cut my foot open was a bad idea. It's like Westmoreland asking for another 200,000 troops after Tet. Frederick the Great, who knew a thing or two about reinforcing failure, called this reinforcing failure.  The problem with doctors is that they see the regimen as an end unto itself.*

We may be able to return to the gym this week. We'll plan accordingly. But we plan, god laughs. For as it is written, we plan, god laughs. We think we have a touch of tendinitis in our left triceps from carrying our basement to the curb. Also, we're still tired. 

We had a good first week with The Final Storm. Our impression right now is the MS is a grand tour of various areas: the US, London, Italy, etc etc. Readers may find this frustrating, but we think this is necessary to establish the global situation and lay the groundwork for further novels. Besides, The Final Storm begins with a 13,000 word opening blockbuster at the Roki Tunnel. That ought to keep you people happy.  The chapters must needs reordering. USSR, US, UK, we think.  

We did a little side work on The Weser.

We have the 75 printout and will probably start reading this week. It's time to clear the deck. 

*In this way doctors are like the State Department, where nothing else matters as long as they are 'engaged' and talking.