Yesterday, I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. The house still doesn't look like it's inhabited by a neat freak (ie. my husband), but at the very least, I managed to reorganize all the closets upstairs, clean up the hallway, mop upstairs and downstairs, clean 95% of my office, bring the gigantic baby pen upstairs and subdue Sam with a box of Wheat Thins, all of which contributed to the fact that I finally finished my wedding chapter. It's really good if I do say so myself. So good that the next few chapters suck by comparison.
My plan is to finish the final chapter, then polish from the beginning so I have fifty pages to show an agent. My goal is to start contacting them after Easter, so I will only be wasting my time if I keep tinkering with the ending.
On today's agenda, buy a new replacement belt for our broken vacuum cleaner and buy myself a copy of The Chicago Manual of Style. That seems an apt metaphor for my life at the moment.