It’s not enough that trash collection begins in the wee hours of the morning and goes on for several hours on Tuesdays. Oh no. I’ve pretty much grown accustomed to that. But you add to the trash trucks the tree-trimming trucks that have been parked outside my bedroom window since 7:00 a.m., and now you’re talking bloody murder. I’ve had a headache all damn day, and no amount of Advil has even put a dent in it. And all day long, outside my window, I’ve heard the raucous cacophony of bucket-seated men wielding chainsaws.
And oh yes — did I mention that when it’s windy (read: most days), my living room sounds like it sits underneath an abandoned playground? Up on the roof, the vent between the spot over our stove and the outside world has a loose flap; and when it creaks and turns in the breeze, the sound is amplified down the vent. It sounds exactly like a rusty see-saw being worried by two toddlers without a drop of rhythm between ‘em. Yes, it’s exactly as pleasant as it sounds.
This little quirk was supposed to get fixed about three weeks ago. Back when the problem was first noted, a nice older gentleman from maintenance told me what the problem was — and then he told me that all it would take to fix it is a little bit of tar, but he didn’t have any tar on him right that moment, and he was leaving for vacation. But he’d get it in a few days.
Like I said, this was three weeks ago. I resubmitted the request this morning, and it was received without fanfare — and I was given a promise that it would be forwarded to maintenance immediately. Yeah. I’m holding my breath over here.*
In other news, my word count is low again today. The reasons for this include (but are not limited to) everything I just typed above, plus a freelance gig and a few afternoon business email exchanges. I also put in my application for guest status at DragonCon; so it’s not like the day was a total loss or anything.
Today’s stats for the trashy adventure about a neurotic vampire/thief and her wealthy blind client, now with Bonus! half-Cuban drag queen and military intrigue are as follows:
New Yearâ€™s Resolution Status: Pass. Barely.
New Words Written Today: 950
Present Total Word Count: 25,143 words
Goal: 30,000 words and a proposal.
Darling duJour: “… My internal Panic Oâ€™ Matic was convinced that heavily armed commandos were already rifling through my underwear drawer.”
Things Accomplished: Fleeing the scene; plotting next move; red-headed floozy disguises; trying to find coffee in Seattle; 25-cents a printed page is fucking extortion; maybe it’s time to abandon this-here safe house and run like hell.
Other Accomplishments: Pleased my first reader with “The Catastrophe Box,” filled out convention applications, sorted some tax documents. Tried to decide whether or not I was childishly pleased or grown-uply embarrassed by how much (read: how little) I earned writing fiction this year.**
Stumbling blocks: Freelance gig took up all morning, well into lunchtime. No big deal and I was happy to have it; but it ate up a big chunk of my writing block. Must make up for it tomorrow.
Reason for Stopping: Headache or no, I need to get out of this noisy-ass apartment.
Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 49,455
* As an aside, every time I complain about our apartment I get a flood of readers insisting to me that I should move; but I note that none of those readers are in the downtown Seattle area — because those readers know good and well how hard it is to find an apartment around here … much less an apartment that (a). isn’t completely falling apart and (b). is less than $1100 a month. Besides, we’re still in a lease for the moment. So seriously. Knock it off. Can’t move right now. Stop making me feel like a loser about it.
** Less than last year by over $2,000. Gotta write more. Gotta sell more.