So I am trying to tidy something up and get it ready to send off. And I am actually not getting this done, because the idea of revising is unnerving me greatly, to put it mildly. And as I often do in such circumstances, I turn to the light of my life, for his words of wisdom.
“What are you worried about?” he said.
“What if I make it worse and can’t tell?”
“Well,” he said in a cheer-up kind of voice, “it will probably get rejected by statistically the same number of people.”
(I confess there was something of a stunned pause on my part, here.)
“…boy,” I said in a slightly strangled voice, “are you lucky you took the knives and forks away.”
Still, you know. He’s… right, I guess? I mean, if I make it better, it will probably get rejected by fewer people. If I make it worse, it likely won’t actually get rejected by more.
I am fairly sure that I am missing something, but since I am more looking to get unstuck than I am looking for statistical analysis, at least I am achieving my primary goal. Cheers!
 Which is fascinating, but often leaves me with that faintly bubbly feeling that I get when I have managed to (briefly) internalize the Monty Haul problem and the truth of the solution.
The rewards of bravery are scant and cruel.
The technician who came to fix our internet connection seems competent and pleasant, but I don’t think the salesperson he was talking to quite followed what needs to be done differently for installation sales orders.
Hoping all issues are resolved so everyone gets internet access and gets paid.
Angus very bravely came out to watch the new human, at which point Piper sat on him. (Angus, not the technician.) The rewards of bravery are scant and cruel.
Right now the cats are patiently studying the high winds outside, and I am mourning the lovely weather we were having. Nice while it lasted.
Well, the internet problem is not actually fixed, which is really annoying. Hoping it gets sorted tomorrow morning. I mean, for the moment, we at least have flaky internet access, but we had that before so it isn’t really an improvement. And the afternoon was a whole lot of fussing back and forth that just enabled us to stay in one place.
On the plus side, the weather hasn’t gotten quite as unpleasantly chillier as I was worried it would, and we are getting some lovely windy bluster and occasional spates of rain. Combined with a warm house and extensive amounts of tea, this actually makes for a pretty pleasant afternoon.
I am fond of post-apocalyptic settings. I’m particularly fond of ones with a retro-futuristic styling; god knows why I keep coming back to that, since it’s not as if there haven’t been some beautifully detailed and realized post-apocalyptic settings which don’t conform to that aesthetic. I imagine it hooks into that part of my brain that always argues for finding a diner if one is looking for a restaurant.
I also knit.
These two things meet in my brain not infrequently, and apparently I’m not alone. Alex Tinsley is editing a book called Doomsday Knits, which also includes lovely photos and amusing flow charts to assist you in identifying your apocalypse, and I am so there. (I think that of the patterns I’ve seen on the blog tour so far, I am particularly fond of the Fennec shrug. Am just sorry I missed the Kickstarter.)
It’ll be coming out next month. Something to look forward to.
 For those who don’t know me: why yes, this covers the excellent game settings Deadlands and Fallout, particularly Fallout: New Vegas. For those who do: yes, I’ve got my brain in Deadlands and Fallout again. Hush. It’s just one of those things that happens every now and then.
 This is occasionally overruled by other parts of my brain. My brain is large; it contains multitudes. Still, I acknowledge the impulse. Tangentially: diners are apparently called coney islands in Detroit. (Also, would totally accept Detroit as a future Fallout setting. Michigan has been sadly underused. Also Ronto.)
One particularly good thing happened this weekend. I’d cleared a block of time, and worked on clearing up my office. The light of my life stepped in to help when I hit the bad patch–you know the one, the “oh god, this is never going to work, there’s so much, I don’t know how I’m ever going to get it all under control.” And it’s not all done as well as I want it done, but there’s what feels like a huge difference.
The wall of my office furthest from the door is (obviously) the first thing I see when I walk in. It used to have a couple of things stacked up against it, and the edge of my desk that was up against that wall had clutter on it as well. And now neither of them do, and when I walk in through my office door, I see it looking better, and it’s just such a quiet relief.
I have been a fairly regular follower of UfYH (page title uses NSFW language) for a while now. I knew intellectually that the bit about “clutter makes it harder to think” is true. But it’s kind of awesome to actually notice it because I can feel things getting better.
Yeah, I’m watching Dracula. I cheerfully refuse to apologize, and totally understand that many people have better things to do with their time. Spoilers follow. Continue reading “I never drink wine. I prefer whiskey.”