Heeeeeeeeeeeee. I got up (throaaaat hurrrrrrts) and checked my email this morning, and found this:
From: Ginger [my agent]
Subject: Stop freaking out
If it's a few days late, it's a few days late. Nothing is going to happen to you--[Orion] can't cancel the contract for it being just a few days late. OK? This is not grad school. It's publishing. We basically close in August. Don't worry.
I'm sure I'm going to continue to freak out, because that's the Cleolinda way, but I finally cracked one of the last Matrix scene holdouts while I was making breakfast. I don't know why I usually think of good things while I'm making breakfast, but it involves pacing around the kitchen while whatever cooks in the microwave--it's something about standing there waiting on the microwave. Using the bathtub or the shower for inspiration, I understand, the but microwave thing puzzles me. Maybe it's the micro-waves themselves.
The following is actually being written at the present moment: