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Jul. 5th, 2007 09:53 pmWell, shit. One of the front sprinklers is broken.
I wouldn't really mind, except for the damned heat, and the fact that I'm a shitty fix-it type when it comes to plumbing. I can handle all sorts of other hardware problems, but pipes and sprinklers... not so much. [Really, the extent of my practical knowledge is pretty much disabling the neighbors' yard because they have the sprinklers set to hit our cars instead of their plants, no matter how often we try and tell them about it. Hard water buildup is a bitch to get off of a car, and the car wash charges $25 in labor to do it.]
That said, only one plant seems to have kicked off so far, and I think it was a lost cause - I've been watering it daily and it's still mostly brown.
In other news, I've now successfully found two romance novels of the basquillion I've been reading that do not end in ZOMGBAYBEES!! (though they pathetically fall prey to the trap that every real woman wants one or two or ten of the squalling creatures) - it's not especially gratifying, but it gives me some small sliver of hope that there is, indeed, a book out there that will have a heroine thoroughly DISinterested in the idea of spawning. I mean, really, fastest way to ruin porn for me is to throw in a kid and starry-eyed, beatific-despite-having-just-been-through-labor heroines. [This, of course, opens the door to the slippery slope of sharing lurrrrve and all that, the premise for this whole genre. Frankly, I want to read something sordid that includes safe sex and makes it sexy, instead of the 'ooops, goshdarn, now we'll HAVE to get hitched for the young'n we just made!' premise of a wedding. Hell, let's have safe sex and no wedding plans whatsoever. Keep it at mistress level.] ... I really should write myself a Harlequine or two - it can't be THAT hard to get published, if the grammatical errors I've been correcting in every novel are any litmus test.
Aaaaaaaaanyway. Off to drink cheaper-than-two buck Chuck and write something delightfully smutty. Nothing of Naamah's caliber (as I certainly lack the extensive knowledge), but it keeps mewet warm at night, so hey. Whythehell not.
I wouldn't really mind, except for the damned heat, and the fact that I'm a shitty fix-it type when it comes to plumbing. I can handle all sorts of other hardware problems, but pipes and sprinklers... not so much. [Really, the extent of my practical knowledge is pretty much disabling the neighbors' yard because they have the sprinklers set to hit our cars instead of their plants, no matter how often we try and tell them about it. Hard water buildup is a bitch to get off of a car, and the car wash charges $25 in labor to do it.]
That said, only one plant seems to have kicked off so far, and I think it was a lost cause - I've been watering it daily and it's still mostly brown.
In other news, I've now successfully found two romance novels of the basquillion I've been reading that do not end in ZOMGBAYBEES!! (though they pathetically fall prey to the trap that every real woman wants one or two or ten of the squalling creatures) - it's not especially gratifying, but it gives me some small sliver of hope that there is, indeed, a book out there that will have a heroine thoroughly DISinterested in the idea of spawning. I mean, really, fastest way to ruin porn for me is to throw in a kid and starry-eyed, beatific-despite-having-just-been-through-labor heroines. [This, of course, opens the door to the slippery slope of sharing lurrrrve and all that, the premise for this whole genre. Frankly, I want to read something sordid that includes safe sex and makes it sexy, instead of the 'ooops, goshdarn, now we'll HAVE to get hitched for the young'n we just made!' premise of a wedding. Hell, let's have safe sex and no wedding plans whatsoever. Keep it at mistress level.] ... I really should write myself a Harlequine or two - it can't be THAT hard to get published, if the grammatical errors I've been correcting in every novel are any litmus test.
Aaaaaaaaanyway. Off to drink cheaper-than-two buck Chuck and write something delightfully smutty. Nothing of Naamah's caliber (as I certainly lack the extensive knowledge), but it keeps me
