At Least It Ended Well

The SO is out of town again. Despite missing his company, the other thing I hate about him being gone is that something always happens. The past two times, it's been the garage door opener breaking. Okay, I can park on the street for a week, but hauling in groceries when it's pouring down rain isn't as much fun as it sounds. Not to mention the fact that people love to wipe sticky crap on my car that doesn't come off with soap and water. I bet they're the same people who steal my Sunday newspaper every other week. Or at least I hope they are. I'd hate to think there are two different sets of boorish jerks running around my neighborhood.

This time, it's the stove that's not working. Or perhaps it was working too well. My office is right off the kitchen, so I can hear anything that happens in there like the cats opening the cabinet and knocking glasses to the floor. I don't think I can blame the cats for this one though. Two of the electric igniters on the stovetop started clicking. I checked the knobs. Everything was in an off position, but they were firing away. I turned on the gas. They kept sparking. I turned off the gas. They kept going. I pulled all my pots and pans out from underneath the stovetop, crawled into the cabinet, and pulled the plug. They shut off. But now I can't cook unless I crawl back under there and plug it in again. Grrrr.

Did I mention that all this happened while I was doing a load of laundry? Not such a big deal to normal folks, but the drainage pipe for the clothes washer started overflowing when it drains, so I have to sit there and open, close, open, close, the lid about twenty times while it drains to let the pipe keep up with the flow of water or it floods the laundry room. So there I am, dragging out ten thousand pots and pans from under the stovetop when I hear the washer start to drain. Cursing mightily, I got up and raced to the laundry room in time to see the great flood of aught 8 pouring into the bathroom. I took the load of clean towels from the dryer and threw them down on the floor to mop it up. Can you say re-do on that load?

I've had better days.

On the other hand, since I finished the rough draft of Personal Demons, I decided to treat myself to a short story. I owe two to a couple editors, but this was the one I promised first, so I started working with my idea. Things always seem cool in your head, but when it hits the paper (computer) is when you find out if it will really work or not. The MC is Ze, a person of indeterminate gender. Ze dresses like a cross between Marlena Dietrich in her tuxedo and Joel Grey in Cabaret, and does a rope bondage show. Sure, there's going to be sex, but like the audience in the story, I want the reader to obsess on sussing out Ze's gender. Hopefully I can pull that off. I'm having fun playing around with it.