In the Home Stretch with Harry!
I used to be a fan of horse racing--mostly because, well, horses. I've become less enamored of it because of the extremes the sport subjects young animals to and the gambling aspect of things, but let it suffice to say "the home stretch" generates a more robust metaphor for me than maybe your average user of idioms. The home stretch, if the race is close, means the jockeys are pulling out all the stops to get every last bit of speed from mounts that are just about spent. The whips are flying, horses are foaming, there's likely mud everywhere. So when I say I'm in the home stretch of finishing the first Harry Moon graphic novel, I don't mean I'm happily drifting toward a blissful light at the end of the tunnel. I mean I'm flogging myself, proverbial foam lathering my productivity, and there's almost as much chance of me blowing a tendon as there is of me finishing the race with flying colors. Because my monitor is a beast, you may not fully app...