My Inner Editor and I have come to a truce. Fixing Chapter Four turned out to be positively simple after a good night's sleep ("Weeping endureth for a night, but joy cometh in the morning," and all that). Then when I re-read Chapter Eight, which two months ago was the Worst Chapter Ever, and discovered that it was actually rather good in parts, I felt much better overall. I still have a few technical glitches to fix, and I'm still dealing ruthlessly with redundant and overused phrases wherever I find them, but I no longer feel as though I am up to my armpits in a cistern of my own authorial suckitude.
I went to the doctor this week about a strange visual/neurological symptom I've been experiencing every six weeks or so, with a blurred halo around my vision and wavy/jagged lines on the right side. Turns out that I am having migraine auras without the headache part. Funky! Now I can stop worrying and enjoy the ride, since it's probably the closest I'll ever get to synaesthesia.
I have a lovely fat slab of saffron cake, fresh from my mother's oven, and a steaming cup of Earl Grey. All's right with the world.