1. Plague-house report: Mike the husband was the next victim. Every time anyone ventures near the bedroom or bathroom where he's hiding, he says go away! save yourself! wash your hands! in bleach! stop breathing until you get downstairs! Get away while you can! 2. Shhh, I'm hunting editors and/or agents . I need them for this contest. It used to be easy to line up the suckers editors. They rarely said no. Now no one's returning my notes or phone calls. Not even Hilary, who has hidden herself away. . . My own agent said no, thanks. Too many contests? Too many manuscripts? Worrisome, eh? I'm worried and not just because I'm neurotic about my own career. 3. Golly, I've gotten sick of erotic stuff. I'm particularly tired of envelope-pushing for the sake of getting envelopes pushed: the butt plugs and spankings and menages and spikey hemii-penii. And no doubt you thought cream-filled slits (sounds like a dessert) were bad enough. I was reading a story thi...