frosted glass

The east windows of my house all look like my bathroom window now, only more sparkling-- they're frosted, totally coated with ice. There's an ice storm going on and I'm half-expecting the power to go out. I'd take a picture, because the big picture window in the living room looks quite cool like that, but at the moment I cannot locate my camera. I took it to take pictures of Dave swathed in his new flannel sheets, and now I can't think where I put it down. Good job I don't have a bigger house or I'd have no chance of finding it.

Unfortunately the Catholic school across the street seems to be in session. They don't have enough parking, and so the students park on my street. Occasionally the students, indifferent drivers at best, park on my lawn. And today, some genius seems to have totally failed to notice that I have a driveway, and is parked directly across the end of it. I don't know what one is meant to do in this situation. I mean... no, I hadn't shoveled the driveway, but there is only about an inch of snow on the ground, and the indentations at the edge of the kerb are clearly visible. So this dumbass is parked in my driveway.

Should I go out and key his car, or what? No, because a) I'd have to put on clothes, and b) I'd probably slip.

I am guessing that by the time I go into work this afternoon, all the flights will have been canceled and there will be nobody in the airport. Because it's supposed to be awful all day, and get worse at night. You'd have to be mad to try to fly an airplane. You can de-ice all you want, but if they couldn't keep the runway clear of that fluffy lake-effect snow on Christmas Eve, they're not going to be able to get all the ice from this stationary front off it either.

So, that's just my thought. Slow night? Sparse and grumpy travelers? (Really I can't complain-- delayed travellers are friendly to bartenders, and the only reason I made any tips at all on Tuesday is because U.S. Air delayed a flight and all the passengers came and sat in my bar and did shots. Jack and Jose were their drinks of choice, though I also sold three glasses of cabernet/shiraz, and two Labatts.)


In the meantime, i awoke with the thought that I should tidy the house, and I do have a few hours before I have to go into work in which I could do such a thing. if the writing's not happening, then perhaps... there's still a bag of Christmas wrapping paper in the living room, and boxes strewn about. I could do some cleaning. Could even put away things I was given for christmas.

I am trying to think of what to do with all the damn monkeys Dave's mom and sister gave him. I should just have a monkey-themed room. I could also strew them about the house. I don't particularly care for monkeys, and neither does Dave, but his mom thinks it's hysterical. But some of them are quite cute monkeys. Mostly, they're picture frames and stuffed animals, but there's also a monkey lamp and a monkey book and a monkey puzzle and, of all things, a monkey lollipop-holder.

[Poll #413895]


But, i just read all my comments from last night and the comments on Chapter 1 are enough to have me excited about the project again, at least for a little while, so it's unlikely I'll get around to tidying much. C'est la vie! Still, I thought about it, and that should count.
(Housework is exceedingly difficult when you live with someone who fundamentally just doesn't care...)

Heh heh. Ahhh... Suburbia.

Dave called the school across the street and asked if the car across our driveway belonged to one of theirs. They said they'd read out the make, model, and license plate over the intercom.
Sure enough, about five minutes later, a dorky-looking seventeen-year-old in a shirt and tie came sprinting out of the school and ran over to the car. In moving it, he hit the next-door-neighbor's recycle bin. Then he drove off erratically down the street.

We stood in our front door watching and laughing and laughing.


Dave attended that high school. He recounted that periodically when he was a student there announcements like that would come over the P.A., and if it was a car you recognized you'd make the "wooooo" noise, and the person whose car it was would shamefacedly get up and run out of the room, and you'd all laugh at him.


Anyhow, now we can get the car from the garage with its NEW WINDSHIELD! and actually... park it in our driveway! What a thought.

Yeah, I'm psyched about the new windshield.


In other news, we also got one of those little flyers telling us that a level 3 sex offender had moved to our neighborhood. Here's his photo, his name, his address, his telephone number, and a description of the offense for which he was convicted. Have a nice day!

Brr.

tech support

Dave is The One Who Knows Computers in his family.
This means that he's in the extended family's speed-dial for when The Computer Breaks.

He's been on the phone for the last half-hour with his aunt explaining how she can print out one of the photographs that his mom e-mailed to her.

It's kind of cute.


Dave got the car back from the shop, with its new windshield. It's shiny and pretty. I went out to look at it, and noticed that the siding on the house was in the midst of slowly shedding its coating of ice, in large chunks. Weird. Eerie.



I spent far too long on this icon, and it's not any good, but it was fun to play with.

I am deeply pondering online identities, anonymity, and following one's dreams following an interesting correspondence with faramir_boromir. I almost want to write an essay about the identity stuff. But I don't think that will come to anything at the moment.

Bah, I have to start getting ready for work. Bah!

I did do some preliminary editing of the Vikings novel, but I still haven't finished Chapter 4. I am still not sure how long I should make chapters. I might subdivide chapters so as not to post more than about 4,000 words a week-- I know for some people, reading 6,000 words on a screen is too much. But then, for some fanfic works I follow, a chapter of 8,000 words is an excellent length... So I'm not sure what I should do there.