so I’m scrolling through twitter and two of the sf people I follow say they’re going to edit a bunch of short Quaker Speculative Fiction and I think… man, I been throwing around the idea of Henry Thomas Wake going to space for a decade now, mebbe I should write the story.
In the course of the morning I wrote the story, got my mOm to correct it, and SUBMITTED IT. Yes I HAVE SUBMITTED A STORY TO A MAGAZINE.
I’m only 62, but it did take a while.
I am miserably uncomfortable and I have absolutely no idea what’s triggering them.
It’s not as bad at night. It gets worse when I get up and put clothes on. I recently changed laundry detergent, so it’s a possibility in the hopper of tree pollen, cat dander and general porousness of the building envelope that we’re dealing with.
Anyway, off to the shower, maybe that’s all it will take. (wrong, the heat of the shower made it worse. WHAT IS IT? ALLERGIES? VIRAL? A NEW MIGRAINE SYMPTOM (I’VE BEEN GETTING TRIANGULAR RAINBOW DRAGONS FOR DAYS NOW) wat wat is it
Weather was SO GLORIOUS yesterday, we had a lovely walk in at Deer Lake. Paul is being rather stiff and formal with me as if he’s expecting me to outburst on him, but all I did yesterday was tell him that not putting the mask over his nose isn’t a good look.
The crows telling the raven to sod off was pretty funny.
The frogs were out but not talking.
We heard a waterfowl that we’ve never heard before, could have been a hooded merganser; they certainly appear in the park.
Katie took the day off yesterday, and I had a brief and bracing phone call with Keith when I tried to stealth-check up on her.