Yesterday was moving day. We moved the beds downstairs to what was the living room and moved the desks upstairs. The old bedroom is now my very spacious office (yay!) and the guest bedroom is now The Frenchman’s office. Why all the fuss? Because our bitchy blond college co-ed neighbor does something unbelievably immature in retaliation every time she thinks we’re having sex. We finally hit a wall with her this last week and decided to just swap rooms to eliminate any “sex” noises, as our bedroom was adjacent her own room in the other apartment in the mas. The real benefit is that our bed is next to la toilette now. We no longer have to brave The Aztec Stairway That Demands Sacrifice every time we need to pee at 3:00am.

So. After the great alteration, we went to visit friends who have two cats and I got me some kitten squeazin’. Not nearly enough kitten squeazin’, but it’ll have to do. We then went on a beautiful walk along the rocky shore trail and saw the dotted amber lights of old Marseille from across the silvery periwinkle waves of the Mediterranean Sea. That was purty. One of our friends is a well-known theater director. I told him my idea for a play I want to write and he loved it. Of course, he wants it in French. Details!

The good news is that I just got the green light from Aeon Magazine to send electronic submissions. I’m waiting for the same from Baen. Although I should have some news today about The Secret Project (aka G3), I have absolutely no transits either way. So, I’m wondering if I’ll actually get any news of import. Lest I paint myself in a metaphysical corner, however, I’ll keep an open mind.