One day, Carrie Fisher dies. The next day, Debbie Reynolds dies. That's 2016.
Somehow, I slept eight hours last night. Or somewhere in the neighborhood of eight hours. I've been averaging five to six.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,517 words and finished "Untitled Psychiatrist #1," which will be appearing with "The Sick Rose, Redux" in Sirenia Digest #131. I'll be proofreading and assembling the issue today, and it will go out to subscribers either tonight or tomorrow. So, keep watching the skies, kittens.
I am told that Weird Fiction Review #7 includes an article titled "Haunted Perceptions: Fear and Trembling in the Works of Caitlín R. Kiernan." I have not yet seen the issue.
Also, yesterday our thermostat blew out, and we had to get an electrician dude to come in and replace it. Lest we freeze or something. And Spooky's been sick since just before Xmas Eve, and if she doesn't get well soon and make it to the market, we're going to have to eat the cats. Last night, I made fettuccine with pesto and sweet Italian sausages, but that was officially the last of the "good" food.
Last night, we watched episodes of RuPaul's Drag Race that we'd already seen. I find Season Five imminently rewatchable. And I played with my pretty little illusionist Tyrian drag boy, leveling Nellis Rose Snow to 25. And I RPed on Etherpad with stsisyphus. And that was yesterday.