Fiddle-de-doo

I nearly twisted my ankle during my walk to the car this morning. That was novel. I also sent my third fax ever, so banner day. I'm tired and palid enough that I look like Mr. Orange in the later stages of Resevoir Dogs. Less bloody, forutnately.

I recieved a pleasant personal rejection from The Hat, which astonished me because I was sure they'd lost the manuscript; it's been a year. And they will be sending me a copy of the new edition! Thrilling. I love The Hat.