What next?

You might just be old enough to have heard of Spike Milligan, comedic genius and manic depressive de nos jours, but I doubt if you saw his TV series, Q. It was in direct line of descent from the zany thirties comedy movie, Hellzapoppin, full of outrageous flights of fancy, running gags, daliesque dysfunction and occasional bare boobs (He was another tractor enthusiast).
Often, between each sketch, he would put a cardboard box over his head and desperately intone the words "What're we going to do next?" "What're we going to do next?" "What're we going to do next?" as he took another spastic step forward with each repetition of the phrase.
The BOOK is very close to completion now. And this evening, as I posted off the last of the corrections to the editor (Cap'n art thou sleepin' thar below?), a scary phrase came into my mind: "What am I going to do next?"
I hope you will excuse me if I put a cardboard box over my head while I work out an answer to that awe-ful question.