Here in Providence, it's 66˚F and overcast.
Yesterday was a very hard writing day, but I managed 1,111 words on "The Cats of River Street (1925)," getting close to the end. It should be an easy matter to finally finish it today.
You may now read "Pushing the Sky Away (Death of a Blasphemer)" online, free in the Summer 2014 issue of Subterranean Magazine.
I don't know how many days it's been now since I went outside. Several.
Last night, dinner was a rabbit that kathryn fixed rabbit in the slow cooker, with andouille, white wine, pink lady apples, red potatoes, garlic, white onion, and carrots, and we had a very light Belgian Bière de Miel biologique with it. Later, we watched the final episode of the third season (series) of Sherlock, and I found it in all ways agreeable.
Time to write, because I'm not yet dead and writing is what I do.