I went out to get the mail today at my usual time -- 30 seconds after the mail carrier leaves. This is what happens if you work from home and have stories out to editors and have anything short of an iron will. I try to control it, I really do. Hence the thirty seconds.

So here is what happened today:

I found among the white #10 envelopes I scan so anxiously for signs of rejection an envelope from The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, but it wasn't the SASE I sent along lo these five weeks ago. After a split second of "Huh?" I switched to reciting (yes, out loud), "It's just something about my subscription. That's it -- it's about my subscription. Subscription, subscription, subscrip -- "

That's when I saw the check. With my story title next to "For". And then everything got a little fuzzy for a minute. Then I believe there was screaming. The good kind.

And while I'm relaying anxiety-relieving news, my employment search concluded on Monday with a contracting job in Washington, D.C. I expect to leave this week for at least three months and up to six months.

If I run into Harriet Miers I'll try to find out what she really thinks and let ya'll know. Perhaps Jell-O shots will loosen her tongue.