Damn, I'm taunted, daily, by the bloody word counter.
I nearly catch up, then decide to sleep - who wouldn't - only to be slapped in the face again the next morning - like the French character in 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail', who stands on the castle wall: "I taunt you, I taunt you, and then I taunt you some more! You silly English Kingé, you."
I need a wadge of words under my belt, that I can distribute to all and sundry with largess when I'm too bored to write.
Oh yeah, the story's going well.