And I call the cats destructive

So yesterday the cleaning ladies came, and at 3pm this kitchen was immaculate.

Then I made soup, and a salad, and garnishes. And we discovered that we'd run out of dishwasher detergent, and that the dishwasher was full. And then I made strawberry shortcake.

This kitchen was a disaster area by 9pm. And the cleaning ladies only come once a month. Hey-ho.

(Maybe Whole New Chaz will treat their work as an exemplar, and follow suit. Maybe.)

In other news, my desk arrives today. And my chair. I am unreasonably excited about this. Once I have a desk, I'll have a desktop; once I have a desktop, I can have a desktop computer. I love the Laptop of Heavenly Perfection, with that kind of special love that we reserve for what will not last for ever; and for the last five years I have written the most part of most of my books upon it; but even so, I am apparently still wedded to the notion that a desk should have a big static machine on it, where the core of the business takes place.

Then all I'll need is a project. It's all very well being a man in motion, but I do need nailing down. I have vague hopes of a Kickstarter, if no actual traditional publisher comes forward with an actual offer - but I am not that widely read as a blogger, or that widely known as a writer. I have a book I would love to do that way, that I've treasured in my head for ten years now; but. I'm just not sure I could stir up the support, and finding one more way to fail is not 'zackly how I want to start my new life over here.

Big desk is big

Big desk is so big, big burly movers were first hesitant, then doubtful, then inveigled. Then, God save me, instructed how to get it through the first door, from the back yard into the utility room. "Oh," they said, "you want us to do it the hard way?"

Which they did. Just. With me being a third pair of hands to offer relief at crucial angles and intervals.

And then it had to go through the second door, into my study. And my method would not work, so we tried theirs. Viz, we took the door off. And the desk made it inside, by about a millimetre's width on either side.

And now I have a desk, yay; and it is lovely. And enormous. And ridiculously large. It has a mug of coffee and a teeny laptop and a black cat on it, and it makes Barry look small and slender-boned. I left a large Victorian kneehole desk in Newcastle, and thought I'd never have its like again. This is at least of a size with that, and possibly bigger. It seems bigger. Deeper, at least. With more drawers, some of which lock in a sneaky way.

Also, it has many stubborn stickers on it. Why would someone take a lovely grainy piece of furniture and stick stupid commercial decals on it? I am infuriated. And picking at them with my nails is going to take for ever, but I don't want to use chemicals if I can avoid it. I am very open to advice on this. (Also, we have lemon oil, which the internets recommended for mission oak furniture. Will that clean as well as feed it? In, eg, those places where I have successfully peeled off a decal but a sticky residue remains? Is there some better way to lift off the sticky? Help me, O LJ, you're my only hope.)

Also, I will be posting photos when I have the means. They will probably feature a black cat. Mac is reclined in luxury in the bedroom, so Baz has annexed the desk in his absence. It is new, and he can sit on one corner and still see out of the window.

Also, I have a chair. It's a very nice chair and I don't want to seem dismissive. Just, it's not the desk.

My duty to the party

There. My first act at my new desk: I have voted for the SFWA officers of my choice.

I love voting. In the UK, it's that little passing moment where you get to feel like a citizen, rather than a subject; in other contexts it's just a participatory pleasure, but it is still a pleasure for me as well as being Important and so forth. Making my mark in a literal sense, making my voice heard even if I'm only shouting in unison with a lot of other voices (or of course crying in the wilderness, making a protest, being a naysayer: I've done that too).

Mac is now exploring the desk. I don't know what you call those flat wooden boards that can be drawn out to serve as extensions to the desk-surface, but this has two, one on either side; I call them cat-perches. Mac is now perching appropriately.