After a three day weekend at the grandparent's house, I like to think that the kids are finally ready to come home. In reality they probably aren't, but I think the grandparents are worn out. Everybody had a good time, but all good things must come to an end. . .just so we can recover from them if nothing else.
I'm ready to get back home myself so I can move my short story to my main computer and do some real editing on it, and also send it off to my proofreaders.
Then I can focus on trying to squeeze that twelfth story out of my poor overused grey cells, so that I can actually claim to have reached the goal I set for myself this year. Only one more to go. I can do it. I know I can.