Whew. The nice agent lady got back to me, said she was still working through my ms., not wanting to rush it, while dealing with the typical kaleidoscope of queries, foreign rights, printer break-downs, admin crap & cetera, and said she was sorry not to have let me known sooner that it was going to take longer than she'd thought to finish the edits. This is why I call her the nice agent lady.
I sort of feel bad, because I have twice doubted her and now twice been shown to be a paranoid twit. I think searching for an agent does this to you. Well, it has done it to me. So...I shall now relax about the whole thing. I told her to please take her time. The delay itself doesn't bother me. This whole process has proven to be so ridiculously long that throwing a few more months in the way won't make a difference. In fact, I have thought that delay might be good: if the economy continues to improve and publishers start to crawl out from under their beds, they might loosen up a bit, giving more of us newcomers whose books don't have "next Dan Brown" written all over them a better shot.
And I've got that WIP now to work on. So...big exhale...big inhale...big thanks, nice agent lady.