I think I'm suffering from the writing form of muscular atrophy. I wrote the first five hundred words of a story I conceived last night and it felt like five thousand. It's coming along though. I went with mutants and a DNA rewriting virus rather than zombies since I plan on using more SF concepts and I find some aspects of an ongoing zombie apocalypse illogical. Now I just have to find the time to write the rest of it, along with my crime story and the one about the Dyson Sphere and the wormhole train. And all the others.
Last night, I was getting ready for bed when a charitable organization that shall remain nameless called me twice. Twice, after 8:30! I'm of the school of thought that you shouldn't call anyone after 8 PM. Unless they have kids, then the cutoff is 7. The second time, I told the caller "You know it's after 8:30, right? What time is it at your house?" He hung up.
If tonight's as conducive to photography as last night was, I'm going to try to get more pictures of those lizards, as well as the buzzards I keep seeing flying over the neighborhood.