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Mrdr Most Foul
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The past few days have been pretty good, actually, and I'm in high spirits despite some nasty bits. I worked late last Friday, and again Monday, to finish up the September issue of A Certain Magazine. Worldcon happened a month early this year, which meant our Hugo Awards coverage fell in the same issue as our vast quarterly Forthcoming Books listing, two great things which are not so great together, at least in terms of my workload. The Worldcon issues are always difficult, and when added to a Forthcoming Books issue, whoo. I felt pretty much chained to my desk there for a few days, and when I got home at night, the last thing I wanted to do was sit at my computer. Thus, I didn't write much, and didn't even play that much World of Warcraft! But the issue's done now, and all is peace and calm.

The other bad thing was waking up Monday to find our car hood spraypainted with the badly-spelled and weirdly self-aggrandizing/diminutive tag "mrdr boy." (Murder Boy? Mister Doctor Boy?) Cars all along the block on that side of the street were spraypainted. Heather, being an idealist, called the cops, who helpfully offered to send us some forms so we could report the incident. I, meanwhile, took a sponge and some soapy water down and scrubbed the paint off (with Heather's help soon after). Shitty way to start a Monday, but it inspired a scene for the Bridge novel, so all is not lost. Thanks, mrdr boy. Your fictional alter-ego is going to be eaten by a monster from another dimension. (More or less. It's not that simple.)

And today, my favorite pair of pants ripped when I tried to sit cross-legged. Popped the seam in the crotch. Sigh.

But everything's okay because I have the love of a good woman and a cold pitcher of margaritas at home and tomorrow's my day off. And the weather seems to be turning warm again. And I read Mammoth by John Varley and it was great fun, and now I'm reading Magic of Madness by Justine Larbalestier, which is also great fun, and makes me want to write a YA next year.

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