*climbs into coffee mug*

[miladygrey]

Couldn't sleep last night, busy brain, plus Hector rousing himself every twenty minutes to drape himself over my thighs/press against my side/take over my pillow and purr in my ear/walk all over my chest as a sign of love. I also have a sneaking concern that I may be coming down with something; my throat is raspy and I have that dragging not-quite-right feeling weighing on me. But no fever, and no congestion, so we forge on. Aveline and Merrill are at a hearing all morning, and I'm leaving at 1:30 for a doctor's appointment, so besides the one client stopping in to sign a couple of papers, I will have minimal human interaction today, which suits me fine. And maybe they can throw in a flu shot at the doctor's office, just to cover all the bases.

Yeats and I will be at Between Books (the Platonic ideal of the dusty used bookstore full of treasures and/or old paperbacks) in Claymont this coming Saturday, and we will be at the Baltimore Book Festival in...well, Baltimore...next weekend, Friday night and Saturday! Come see us, come buy books! I will do my best to deal with whatever this looming blargh is between now and then.

Reading Log: Sword and Pen by Rachel Caine; How to Survive a Horror Movie by Seth Grahame-Smith; The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow; The Twisted Ones by T. Kingfisher; Echo North by Joanna Ruth Meyer; Rising Stars: Born in Fire by J. Michael Straczynski