Update:
As of 11:59 p.m. on 11/09 I have 10,097 words.

Morale:
Still ahead of last year, still behind quota, still not freaking out. I'll freak out if I'm not caught up by the end of the day on Tuesday.

Excerpt of the Day:

Everything around conspires to remind me I'm an interloper, starting with the chair I'm sitting in. The cushion pines for another ass, and tries to expel mine by stubbornly refusing to give up the lumps and ridges that spell out "Sharlene Was Here." Nothing I can do will convince it otherwise, not all the sqirming in the world.