I have an hour now before the kids come home. I am exhausted from not enough sleep, but also sort of itching from not having exercised enough. And it's hot. I think the correct thing to do is go to the cooler basement and walk on the treadmill at a measured pace, not pushing myself too much (see: exhaustion), but also getting my body to do something other than sit in a chair and type.
I would write more, but I have to think about the next story first. I'm pretty sure the protagonist is a space-age, genetically-modified sacred temple dancer / prostitute. What modifications would one make in one's child, if one expected one's female child to probably carry on that particular profession, in a polymorphously perverse world? (Lots of queer folk around, across the range. Some straight. Some mixed-gender, or neuter. Some aliens.)