I just heard about today's bombings in London. Gratefully, it's apparently nothing like the severity of the attack two weeks ago.

Almost all of yesterday was spent reading. The new (and still untitled) sf story and Chapter Five. And then a paper on the use of magnetic sails for interplanetary travel, so that I could correct the dumb ramscoop error in the story. I didn't get all the revisions to the story done that I'd hoped I'd get done. I still have a little left to do today, which throws doubt on whether or not I'll actual begin Chapter Seven of Daughter of Hounds before tomorrow. I very much need to have another chapter finished before the end of the month. I'll be cutting it very close.

Also, my copy of The Year's Best Science Fiction, Twenty-Second Annual Volume arrived yesterday, though I've hardly had a chance to look at it. I was working on the story, on and off, as late as 11:30 last night.

I feel about eighty years old this morning.

Maybe today will be a day of several short entries. I could use them like buoys, to guide me through what promises to be an interminable day...