Sunday, February 22, 2009

A Rambly Sorta Post

My WIP is closing in on 38,000 words, and I'm horrified.

You see, the story's barely begun, and yet that word count is creeping toward half a novel already. No wonder it feels like this book is taking forever to write; it's taking forever to get started. Wow, I hope I find things to cut later.

Part of the problem is my internal editor has been sternly sent to her room so I can get the first draft done. I'm a devil for polishing things instead of ploughing onward, so I'm refraining from reading what I've written except for fact-checking. I plan to stick to that, even though my word count is ballooning to little effect.

Corpulent beastie
I fear your creeping bloat-ass
Stop stuffing your face


Yesterday, El Husbando and I bought our third countertop dishwasher of the past seven years. You see, I'm kinda allergic to washing dishes and El Husbando is kinda allergic to never having a clean dish when he needs one, so when a dishwasher suitable for lazy people living in teeny apartments small households came on the market, we snapped one up.

Three years later, it broke and began leaking everywhere, so we bought a new one.

Three years after that, the replacement's pump died. We kept the machine going for a while with ingenuity, a length of surgical tubing, and a complete lack of shame when it comes to avoiding work. When the machine started emitting smoke on Friday, however, I called Time of Death and we buried it.

Yeah. These aren't the most robust critters, these countertop dishwashers.

Still, with a three year lifecycle, it works out to costing less than $10 per month to have something other than us doing the dishes, which is great. I just wish the cost to the environment was less grievous.

If we bought Maytag
instead of mayfly, we'd have
time to know you well

Farewell, dishwasher
May you reincarnate as
a Hummer next time


In related news, El Husbando and I are seriously considering buying a place instead of continuing to rent--which means we could get a dishwasher whose quality doesn't suck like a starving lamprey on a rhino's butt.

We would have liked to buy several years ago, but real estate in our city was nuts. You know things are overpriced when two professionals with no kids can't afford to buy a place.

Now, however? I hate to say there's an up-side to having the economy bobbing in the toilet bowl, but it looks like we might get to take another step on the road to being a reasonable facsimile of respectable--and about two more steps, on average, before walking into the wall of the house. Yay for the prospect of having more living space!

Feed upon the flesh
of subprime mortgage corpses
We're proud to be ghouls

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