Fiorella feels strangely bereft today. She finished her requested revision of the first fifty pages of Princess of Bosque Bend and sent them off to New York--twice, in fact, because her "send" box went squirrely on her and didn't record the first time until after she'd submitted the pages the second time.
Fio hopes/prays she correctly interpreted said agent's advice/guidance. But, in the meantime, after four days of being dedicated to nothing but revision, she feels odd, like there's something she should be doing, but isn't.
Oh, yes, there it is--the Christmas tree needs to come down, her desktop needs to be unloaded, and she needs to start communicating with Husband again.
On the other hand, there are 250 more pages waiting to be revised.