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I think my title speaks for itself. (Yes, I know the book is 1984, as it's one of my favourites, but "twenty" sounds better than "twenty-two".)
In other news, I broke 10k today in my

I go back to Agnes in less than a month. Not even thirty measly days. Where on earth did my summer go? Remember at the beginning of the summer when I was complaining what on earth I was going to do with myself all summer1? Now it's the opposite. I haven't done everything I wanted to do, and now I want to cram all that in the last little month. This, of course, means that I'll inevitably be away from the computer a fair bit over the next month in order to cram everything in. During these times I'll likely ignore anyone who attempts to contact me during this time, so be warned. It'll be like Nanowrimo, only I won't be writing at breakneck speed.
Now I've hardly written in my

1To be more accurate, I was complaining about not being able to go to New York for the JKR/King/Irving reading, but when I think about it now, the turn of events has been for the better.