As It Says...

Well, my cough has moved down into my chest, I'm expectorating chunks, and...I have pinkeye! A whole week after Cal finally got over his pinkeye! It's a modern-day fucking miracle.

Anyhow. The good part is, I guess my editor liked the Montage article fine enough, since it's deadline day and he's yet to get back to me; God knows, he certainly has my email and my number. And Mike Allen just put up submission guidelines for Clockwork Pheonix 2, which opens up August 23rd--they didn't want "The Jacaranda Smile" last time (which, as it turns out, was probably good), but might they want "each thing i show you is a piece of my death", were I to finish it? Having read cristalia's "Bell, Book and Candle", I think it's possible. So...that'd give me a reason, if nothing else.

Man, though, I really do feel like dung. Be back later, maybe.

Dude!

I went into the bathroom, and there was a bird in there. Granted, as I've said, our window-screen fell to pieces some time back, and we've had it open almost constantly, letting in lots of flies...but this was a full-bore bird, and better yet, it was some sort of domesticated canary which must have gotten out of its cage/apartment. With no idea who it might belong to, all we could do was try to get hold of it and move it back outside, which took twenty minutes--I finally had to squirt it with a sprayer, then drive it into a cranny behind some file-boxes and grab it from above. It smelled musky.

Now I'm wondering if I should clean everything, or what. And whether or not we should get rid of all the crap we have on top of various bookshelves, since it provides such an excellent series of perches...