AH!
HA! It's 2:30. I am unwell; I only work efficiently FAR after the plane is careening into the mountains. Tonight I had the confound of 75 grams of dark chocolate, RJD2 blasting, and a strong prior sense of worthlessness. So the work may be totally unrelated to the deadline.
But here we are, hanging on to that throttle . . . wind blasting into the cockpit. We may pull out yet. Fack.