Sigur Rós and the Bathing Birds

It is done. The first draft of my novel is complete. I worked on it all night, and once I reached within 2,000 words of the goal, it seemed impossible to allow myself to go to sleep without first getting it all out. So, in between brief video game breaks and trips to the kitchen to boil more water for tea, I wrote 4,600 words over the course of the night, bringing me to a grand total of 50,012 words written between November 2nd and this morning.
As it fueled so much of the novel throughout the month, I closed out my writing to the music of Sigur Rós. I wonder how many authors, in their books, acknowledge musicians and teas and so on in their Thank-Yous right alongside all the living, breathing people? I would imagine that most of them do. After all, do not these things play just as much a part in the process as any person, if not more?
Now the sun is up, and it is a glorious day out. Birds splash in giant puddles, shaking the water off their feathers spastically, before diving back under for one more rinse. I am in love with them, and with everything else as well.
I am so fucking happy. So relieved to be done. So ready to take a break from writing.
And so proud. I cannot even begin to describe it.