The discard file of "New World" is growing and contains a half dozen scenes that were very hard to put aside, even when I acknowledged their replacements were better, or the scene itself was redundant. A little piece of me weeps when I transfer a scene to the discard file (I can't bring myself to simply delete it) because I know it will never return. I promise myself I'll cull the discard piles one day, but I probably won't and they'll continue to clutter my computer memory until some disaster wipes them for me. (Given my propensity for tinkering, disasters happen frequently enough to prevent me reaching saturation point on my hard drive.)
I was muttering to myself about how long this story is taking to complete when my more logical other half overheard and stood ticking off the points on the fingers of an outstretched hand, listing the New Zealand trip, preparations for the UK/Europe trip, first sequel story, "Mitchell's Valley" in the US, and a myiad of family events, all exciting and distracting. I'm not sure I was convinced, but it did make me feel better.
Finishing the rewrite will make me feel even better, so I'd better get back to it.