Your book business is rather like my teaching, except teaching does leave more time & more ways one can cut corners, and so on. And you are beginning to sound just like Chip about London-I have this feeling that the two of you will turn up in NYC again-or I guess I should say the three of you.
And goodness knows, you BOTH need separate rooms. And the baby ought to have a velvet-lined cell where it can be put when both grown-ups have other things to do. Mind you, a nice cell, and a nest, too, but having seen your flat, I agree that it's crowded.
A very close friend of mine, who used to get upset when I went on & on about MEN is now divorced; another came back from Canada more militant than I've ever been, and here you are saying just what we're all thinking.
I think we both went through the business of I'm Not A Girl I'm A Genius, only they really won't let one do that; it just won't work. George Eliot is the most heartbreaking cop-out I've been able to find: every book I've read (tho' I haven't read Romola) breaks about halfway through.
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