Before I definitively cracked the fifteen-hour week problem, I had a year and a half with fewer than fewer than ten fifteen-hour weeks, during which my longest stretch of 15-hour weeks was only three weeks long.

After cracking the problem, I had twenty-six consecutive fifteen-hour weeks. That is kind of insane to me. Something went from being almost unachievable to being achievable twenty-six times in a row.

However, now it’s over. I won’t even come close to fifteen hours this week. I realized that on Tuesday, actually, and decided to turn this week into a real vacation: I wouldn’t even try to make my goal.

It’s been nice to not whip myself into a frenzy trying to do everything. Sometimes one has to accept that some weeks just aren’t optimal for writing. I can’t do a fifteen-hour week when I’m on the road for five out of seven of its days. Travelling is the worst. This week in Seattle has messed up all kinds of routines. Oh well, once I get back, I’ll have two straight months with no travelling, and hopefully I can get back into the swing of things. February is always the doldrums, anyway.

Still, it is quite annoying to give up that streak. It might be awhile (well, at least twenty-six weeks…) before I’m able to match it.