"That's the way that it goes. Everybody's buying little baby clothes. That's the way that it ends."
I awoke to another inch or two of wet, sticky snow. Currently it's 28˚F, but, supposedly, it feels like 35˚F. We have rain coming, and the high tomorrow is supposed to be 55˚F. Recording-breaking highs are expected from Philadelphia to Boston, on the heels of the record-break lows brought on by the polar vortex.
But global warming is a hoax. So, never mind.
Nothing much from this end. No writing, just editing, email, editors, my agent. And that's gotta change. The busyness of writing is not writing.
Sirenia Digest #95 just went out to subscribers. Which is actually the ninety-sixth issue, since the digest began with #0.
We're expecting readingthedark this evening, and I need a shower, so...