Final Word Count: 50,657
If I wasn't so tired, I'd put in more words tonight, because the story isn't done, but I have accomplished the 50K required, and now I can go back to writing as it strikes me, rather than every second I'm awake and not busy around the house.
I actually got over 50,000 this morning, before I went to work, and felt much better about my purple "Winner!" bar and was able to relax (yes, I stress about foolish things). I came home this afternoon in the driving rain (the rain was the only thing in Phoenix that was "driving." People on the streets were doing other things, I'm not sure what), to find that our idiot dog had pushed open the back door. This was all right, since no one ELSE had come in, so I just put him in his crate, and THEN I noticed he'd helped himself to the candy dish, and eaten ALL of the chocolate shortbread cookies from Trader Joe's and a goodly number of chocolate liquor bottles... still in their shiny metal wrappings. Not unsurprisingly, dog was later quite sick... one thing about it, though, the dog barf smelled like chocolate and alcohol rather than, well, dog barf. He probably had what he thought was the Best Day Ever.
Better still, the cats were still inside, because they, too, didn't want to be out in the rain. (Well, Silhouette was on the front porch in one of the chairs, waiting for me to get home and let him in.)
Now I have to study for the next insurance exam, and I have to get back to the gym, and I can start actually reading the paper and my Flist again (I was backed up almost a whole month on the NY Times; I tried to read my usual frothing-at-the-mouth liberal commentators, but I couldn't focus, so I've missed a lot of Frank Rich and Maureen Dowd.
On the other hand, I can also start reading at home again; just reading in my lunch hour, I've managed to finish Pilate's Wife and most of In Cold Blood, making headway on my "I need to read this" pile of books.
And now I'm going to bed.