I'm running a temperature and breathing at about half-capacity, courtesy of a lot of stuff in my lungs that shouldn't be there. Also, fever + cold medicine = Dream Logicz!!!
Dream Logicz!!! are great for writing. Not so great for editing and submitting before anthology deadlines. Not so great for getting the spring issue of Mirror Dance properly assembled.
And I just spilled hot tea on my keyboard.
I think this is the universe trying to tell me to go back to bed.