I welcomed in the new year by finishing a story just before the submission deadline, reading it aloud, tweaking it, and sending it in. I really prefer having a few days or weeks to get some distance before doing a final revision and sending something in to an editor, but a deadline is a deadline, and I figure it's nice if a themed publication inspired a story to actually finish the story and send it in to them.
Then I was ready to head off to bed, and remembered that the bed frame broke this morning. Oh, well, it was old when we got it. However, we had to finish disassembling it and set up the mattress and box spring on the floor, and re-make the bed.
We would have doubtless done that sooner, except I discovered that some of the radiators weren't radiating heat, so we had to go around and bleed the dumb things again--something My Angel did most of, while I tried to finish the story.
I'd love to know why it's so much harder for me to write science fiction than fantasy.
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