The editor hasn’t thrown the book at my head yet, which is a positive sign. Also: my brain hurts. Actually doing the edits is, like, mental exercise that I haven’t been doing for the last few months. It’s gonna take a few days to get myself back up to speed. On the other hand, I feel fairly better. Doing useful work is an anodyne to weariness of the spirit.
On the gripping hand: I am still committing war crimes against semicolons. Poor editor. Poor, poor editor.