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Entry tags:
Gearing Up
For my week-and-a-half in Vancouver. Anyone ever been there? I'm going for work, so most likely I will not see much of the city. Airport to hotel and environs of hotel back to the airport. At least the hotel is right on the water and I am told there are copious restaurants, and park-like walking paths all around. Taking my umbrella and my walking shoes.
I have one more day to complete a fic challenge. I am stuck, stuck, stuck. But that's okay. I did not sign up for any of the LJ community 100's that are floating around for specifically this reason. I suck at deadlines. I was tempted to sign up, but reality talked me down. I write s*l*o*w*l*y. And I seem to be incapable of writing shortfic. Drabbles are impossible (and I classify a drabble as any fic between 100 and 500 words - I know there is major discussion about what a drabble is, but for me 100-500 words, you got yourself a drabble.).
RL is kicking my ass lately. My furnace is bust-i-cated. Only slightly, though. I have two heating zones in my house - one for the added-room-was-a-garage-many-years-ago, and the rest of the house. The rest of the house has no heat, currently. The room-that-was-a-garage is about eight degrees warmer, which means the heat works, just the pump is broken. And the hot water is a-okay. So it is about 60 degrees in my house, and I can't call for workmen until Friday. Good thing I have two comforters on my bed, plus a number of blankets I can get from storage. It couldn't have happened the other way 'round, dagnabit. On top of this I have had a series of bad days (starting last Friday) at work. WHen your boss calls you in in the morning and tells you your day was about to suck, well, that's the day you should run away. Far away. And make no plans for coming back.
And it's not like it was anything I'd done wrong and had to fix, it was just some shit hit the proverbial fan about some crap and it fell to me to find out why and what to do about it. So because someone else fucked up *I* had a bad day.
So yeah. Going to work on my challenge fic, thanks. Going to bury my head in the sand for a little while longer on some other stuff that is dragging me down.
More amusing - I get home after pizza with Gwen to a message on my answering machine obviously not for me. It is a teacher at the High School for the parents of, let's call him "Barney" (not the name given to me) who is not doing his homework and has a test on chapter eight this Friday and is failing Earth Sciences. The teacher want the parents of "Barney" to understand the situation and goes on for a while about what he hopes the parents do for getting "Barney" back up to doing the work for class. The teacher slurred his name (or else had such a broad accent I couldn't understand it) and did not specify what High School he was calling from. As I have no child named "Barney" (or otherwise), and no husband named "Harold" or otherwise, I listened to the message carefully so I could call the teacher back and let him know his telephone message went awry.
No number was included. I figure, okay, no way can I track this down and go to bed. I am still awake at two am and get the bright idea to look up online if there is a Earth Sciences teacher at the most local high school whose name vaguely resembles the one I wrote down earlier from the phone message. I get onto the HS site, and find the Science department is bigger than any four departments put together at the HS I attended many years ago. But there is one possible guy, and I shoot him off an email telling him I hope "Barney's" parents get the message this time, if he truly is the teacher in question.
Haven't received a reply, but if "Barney" fails the test on chapter eight on Friday, don't come crying to me. I did everything I could, probably more than most.
I have one more day to complete a fic challenge. I am stuck, stuck, stuck. But that's okay. I did not sign up for any of the LJ community 100's that are floating around for specifically this reason. I suck at deadlines. I was tempted to sign up, but reality talked me down. I write s*l*o*w*l*y. And I seem to be incapable of writing shortfic. Drabbles are impossible (and I classify a drabble as any fic between 100 and 500 words - I know there is major discussion about what a drabble is, but for me 100-500 words, you got yourself a drabble.).
RL is kicking my ass lately. My furnace is bust-i-cated. Only slightly, though. I have two heating zones in my house - one for the added-room-was-a-garage-many-years-ago, and the rest of the house. The rest of the house has no heat, currently. The room-that-was-a-garage is about eight degrees warmer, which means the heat works, just the pump is broken. And the hot water is a-okay. So it is about 60 degrees in my house, and I can't call for workmen until Friday. Good thing I have two comforters on my bed, plus a number of blankets I can get from storage. It couldn't have happened the other way 'round, dagnabit. On top of this I have had a series of bad days (starting last Friday) at work. WHen your boss calls you in in the morning and tells you your day was about to suck, well, that's the day you should run away. Far away. And make no plans for coming back.
And it's not like it was anything I'd done wrong and had to fix, it was just some shit hit the proverbial fan about some crap and it fell to me to find out why and what to do about it. So because someone else fucked up *I* had a bad day.
So yeah. Going to work on my challenge fic, thanks. Going to bury my head in the sand for a little while longer on some other stuff that is dragging me down.
More amusing - I get home after pizza with Gwen to a message on my answering machine obviously not for me. It is a teacher at the High School for the parents of, let's call him "Barney" (not the name given to me) who is not doing his homework and has a test on chapter eight this Friday and is failing Earth Sciences. The teacher want the parents of "Barney" to understand the situation and goes on for a while about what he hopes the parents do for getting "Barney" back up to doing the work for class. The teacher slurred his name (or else had such a broad accent I couldn't understand it) and did not specify what High School he was calling from. As I have no child named "Barney" (or otherwise), and no husband named "Harold" or otherwise, I listened to the message carefully so I could call the teacher back and let him know his telephone message went awry.
No number was included. I figure, okay, no way can I track this down and go to bed. I am still awake at two am and get the bright idea to look up online if there is a Earth Sciences teacher at the most local high school whose name vaguely resembles the one I wrote down earlier from the phone message. I get onto the HS site, and find the Science department is bigger than any four departments put together at the HS I attended many years ago. But there is one possible guy, and I shoot him off an email telling him I hope "Barney's" parents get the message this time, if he truly is the teacher in question.
Haven't received a reply, but if "Barney" fails the test on chapter eight on Friday, don't come crying to me. I did everything I could, probably more than most.