I actually wrote the first of this entry about 8 a.m., then decided I rather work on "Night Fishing," the story for Weird Tales , so I set it aside for the evening: I forgot to go outside yesterday. And I see now we are supposed to be boycotting Subway. Well, I haven't eaten there since 2004. Eighteen years, so I suppose I'm safe. It's an odd sort of blow, realizing I did not got outside yesterday. I made it sixteen days straight, likely the best I've done in years, and I was aiming for thirty. But then I was so busy yesterday I just fucking forgot and only realized it when I woke this morning, about an hour ago. I woke to a terrific thunderstorm and torrential rain. It's slacking off a bit. End quote. I neglected to say that I woke from a night of poor sleep plagued by some genuinely horrific nightmares. Well, I did. And I was dreamsick all day long. But I got the writing done, another 1,179 words' worth, and then I spent part of the afternoon just reading fiction. Just...because. The afternoon's movie was Christopher Nolan's Interstellar (2014), and having just watched Solaris yesterday, I wondered at how these two SF films, two of my favorites, released twelve years apart, both leaned so hard on Dylan Thomas. They could have done worse. The storms passed by late morning, but it's been wet and overcast all day long. We had St. Patrick's leftovers for dinner. And tonight is the conclusion of Season Four of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel . Later Tater Beans, Aunt Beast (4:14 p.m.)