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About 40 minutes ago I sent the manuscript of the book I'm editing to the author. It's a monster job, and there will be plenty more editorial work to do after author revisions, but it should be much less intensive than what I've just completed. The immediate significance of this milestone should be a big drop in subliminal stress, a possible moderation of blood pressure, and a general boost to my quality of life. Also, slightly less-lazy blogging behavior.Speaking of monsters, last night while trying to sleep I heard something very ungainly-sounding that was ratfucking the dirty dishes on my kitchen countertop. It sounded more massive than a mouse, and got into things that mice haven't gotten into before. Coming downstairs just now to call it an evening, I heard some more sounds, this time apparently coming from the basement. As I started to descend the stairwell to investigate, I heard some very peculiar sounds that may have been vocalizations---low and suppressed, short impulses mostly, that could have come from a bird (crow, grackle, or starling), a squirrel that is unhappy, or even a raccoon. I shut the basement door and won't think about it any more until the motherfucker has starved to death.
Enough. Nighty night.
Dirty dishes stacked up in the kitchen, wildlife roaming the house, if this isn't the norm I hope that book was worth it. But still, check the booze and pills stash. If any of that has been violated you could have a problem.
ReplyDeleteyou better make sure it isn't BeerD, though he'd last awhile down there with that wine collection.
ReplyDeleteA pack of rabid, zombie AND vampire, weasels on speed -- desperately craving both brains and blood; with eye-watering putrid, necrotic causing, steaming, poisonous gel-like drool. And by the way, their copious turds spontaneously form into hordes of mutant snake-like silver fish that can fit through any crack or crevice and whose needle like tongue delivers a strong debilitating muscle nerve block. The victim is fully aware but absolutely frozen. Sleep well R.C.
ReplyDeleteS. Fraud
Didn't rate the meal left on the plate. And where do you keep the ketchup?
ReplyDelete59er: haha. You know that's the first thing I checked. A few weeks after my 2006 rotator cuff surgery an ISU professor I made dinner with at my house stole half of my Vicodin refill.
ReplyDeleteOCH: Beer-D will prowl the refrigerator if not supervised; the guy to keep track of in the basement is Wine-O (i.e., me).
Fraud: that sounds like what happens when Rudy's toilet overflows.
Marginalia: ketchup is probably gone; try the Newman's Oil and Vinegar dressing. Funny, about the time this event started unfolding I had a vivid dream about visiting you in your native land. I must say that you hang out with a lot of odd people, not that there's anything wrong with that.