Went to the gym Wednesday night and did the regular routine. Thursday morning my arms and hands were sore. I'm not sure if this is some sort of humidity thing or if lifting weights before bedtime means waking up sore. I suppose it's the price of vanity.
On the writing front, Tuesday night turned into phone upgrade night. My ten-plus year old flip phone is too old to be able to transition to my carrier's transmission upgrade, so I've joined the rest of the family in ownership of cyber-telecommunications devices which were manufactured in this century. I'm deliberately not installing social media apps onto the new mobile device, although I did download a streaming music service. The mobile's assistant software can enable voice commands, and I'm looking forward to channelling my inner Lorne Green and saying, "Fleeing from the Cylon tyranny, the last Battlestar, Galactica, leads a rag-tag, fugitive fleet..." and having the words magically appear on my screen.
Today (Friday), I received a glowing manuscript rejection. I had kind of built my hopes up because the market had gone past its posted response time, which gave me the opportunity to imagine a long row of editors arguing about how much they liked the story and how they were going to have to find just the right illustrator for the cover for it. Sigh. Oh well. I suppose if I had to rank them, I like glowing rejections more than form rejections, which I like more than "guess why" form rejections.
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