Verb: sap:
Mar. 14th, 2012 10:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceWhen you're on page three of a short story, and you've just spent half a page describing how a character walks down the street? While this may later on discover a way to be relevant, chances are your story is really out walking in search of a plot. Somewhere to go, something to be. You might want to think about that.
My traditional response, of course, is to follow my character's lead, and go for a walk. Can't do that today. I need to be in, to take receipt of my oranges. Also, and unfortunately more important, I need to be in when the cleaning ladies come, so that I can speak to them about the boys. Don't! Let! The! Boys! Out! is what I need to say. And we all know how good I am at being imperative to total strangers, oh yes.
In the meantime, trapped indoors as I am, I have been doing that traditional thing and cleaning up for the cleaning ladies. I don't suppose it'll last, but actually at the moment I quite enjoy being a houseboy. Cooking, of course (soup and a salad, perhaps, tonight; I might bake bread. Except that my hand hurts, so I might not. Lacking a live sourdough starter, I'd have to knead, and kneading may be contraindicated), but other domestic duties are also much more fun when they're for somebody else. I actively like doing laundry here, K's machines are so cool. And because I have so little stuff as yet, I can keep it ordered and put away, and feel sort of gratified. It's a brief glimpse of Other!Chaz, the minimalist version. It will of course not last, unless the sea swallows my shipping and Karen takes my credit card away, but for now, yeah. I feel in control, and I quite like it.
Though I do need a maslin pot or a stockpot for the marmalade, and, y'know. I am fighting the urge to dash down to Macy's and buy one. My ammunition for the fight is that I have one in my shipping, which will arrive in a few months' time; and that we know so many foodie types around here, there really should be someone who can lend me a big pot for a few days. And that I can't leave the house anyway, so no shopping. No.
My traditional response, of course, is to follow my character's lead, and go for a walk. Can't do that today. I need to be in, to take receipt of my oranges. Also, and unfortunately more important, I need to be in when the cleaning ladies come, so that I can speak to them about the boys. Don't! Let! The! Boys! Out! is what I need to say. And we all know how good I am at being imperative to total strangers, oh yes.
In the meantime, trapped indoors as I am, I have been doing that traditional thing and cleaning up for the cleaning ladies. I don't suppose it'll last, but actually at the moment I quite enjoy being a houseboy. Cooking, of course (soup and a salad, perhaps, tonight; I might bake bread. Except that my hand hurts, so I might not. Lacking a live sourdough starter, I'd have to knead, and kneading may be contraindicated), but other domestic duties are also much more fun when they're for somebody else. I actively like doing laundry here, K's machines are so cool. And because I have so little stuff as yet, I can keep it ordered and put away, and feel sort of gratified. It's a brief glimpse of Other!Chaz, the minimalist version. It will of course not last, unless the sea swallows my shipping and Karen takes my credit card away, but for now, yeah. I feel in control, and I quite like it.
Though I do need a maslin pot or a stockpot for the marmalade, and, y'know. I am fighting the urge to dash down to Macy's and buy one. My ammunition for the fight is that I have one in my shipping, which will arrive in a few months' time; and that we know so many foodie types around here, there really should be someone who can lend me a big pot for a few days. And that I can't leave the house anyway, so no shopping. No.