I got my contract from the publisher in the mail Saturday.
It's been sitting, unopened, in front of my computer since then.
I wonder when I'm going to feel that this is real. It's too bad that my ability to enjoy this victory was forever squashed by the publisher-who-shall-remain-nameless that contracted my science fiction novel only to turn around and refuse to honor that contract. Once bitten, twice shy.
Maybe I'll accept that it's really going to happen when I see cover art. Or when the copy editor points out all the typos I missed in the thousand times I read my MS over. Or when I see it in coming releases.