I have a pile of print outs large enough to kill should it collapse on anyone. I am not saying I hope it is me; I am saying, I am not like, moving it to a less dangerous location.
The thing is, during, I'm fine, but when I stop, I'm exhausted suddenly, like I'm just saving it up until the second work is over and then it hits all at once, and I'm mentally wiped and just don't even feel like moving, much less thinking; otoh, was this a good week for amazon to release all those Roberta Gellis romance novels for sale? YES. That's called how I keep sane. Well, that and life-affirmingly fascinating email from domarzione, but that's about it.
During, I don't realize how little forward motion we're making because of the breadth of what we're testing; after, I keep staring at it and wondering why anyone doesn't see the impossibility. This is actually fantastic because I'm spending most of my waking hours testing and far fewer of them not testing, so the majority of the time, I am way too caught up in what I'm doing with each tree to realize the forest is reaching a practical form of infinite.
This is self-pity. Also, hopefully, a working crosspost.
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