Now that we've covered some of the interruptions in the majesty of the beginnings, maybe some explanation of what the routine consisted of goes well here. Jill still had a good, really good job and Will was done with all of that. Jill somehow woke up from the endless evening interludes and suited up for arrival at the designated times while Will straightened up the nest and eased on over to the pool in the complex. Here's the thing: Will told all his gumbas from his former life that he was heading west to begin rebirth and along the way, write the great American novel. Oh he farted around with an old PC with a dot matrix printer but he spent all this creative writing time pushing out letters to everyone who came to mind to pronounce this new life as the real deal. The novel would come out eventually but these proclamations have to come first. Some wrote back; others ignored. It was self-aggrandizement on steroids. Will never fathomed that all these people he contacted were still appalled that he cut and ran even if the dude ranch was kickass, in his words. His premise was flawed even if his exuberance was genuine. The novel never got started. Horndogs digress where oracles elucidate.