So many words

Not quite the end, but so near it that it is utterly outshone by the brilliance of the finale. The penultimate day is practically useless. The patterns are established, the culmination yet to be revealed, it is marked not so much by its having been here, but by being in the way.

Yet, as compared to tomorrow, so little will have changed in our photographs. Certainly, I hope to have showered and perhaps attempted to brush my hair, engaged as I was in a lazy Sunday of NaNoWriMo omgpanicwritewrite, but that is superficial. There will be no significant change in length or coverage unless the razor's bite takes it in the wrong direction.