A Personal No-Fly Zone

I'm writing to you from my fella's computer.

Mine died at approximately 4:00 p.m. today. May she rest in peace.

I would like to add that in the past month, my digital camera, cell phone, and wireless mouse have all bit the dust. There appears to be a contagion. Please, if you know where I live, don't come near -- or at least, don't bring your personal electronics.

I now owe a friend of mine who works in IT about three sweaters. She (or her computer) is peeling the data off the broken carcass as I write this.

(If you're interested, today also involved me cleaning up a cockroach so scary he looked like a Reaver ship from Serenity, a teeny tear in my favorite skirt, and an increase to my health insurance payments. Oh, and the stock market.)

Eeeeek!

I came home from a "couples shower" (about which I shall say little) this afternoon to discover a deceased... oh, goodness help me... cockroach on the floor of my bathroom.

This is vastly preferred to finding a living roach anywhere, but all the same. Now I have to dispose of its awful, leggy carcass.

Please see poll at left. I shall do my part to rid my home of the thing before the poll closes.

One reason not to like Austin

So here I am, being a good little writer, putting down the needles and opening up the computer files so I can work on the novel and the play rewrites and that other thing. You would think the universe might reward me for my diligence.

Instead, I'm cowering in terror, because there is SOMETHING skittering around inside the ceiling light in my kitchen, right now. It is small and dark and I CAN HEAR ITS FEET.

I keep telling myself, "It could just be a gecko... It could just be a gecko..." But this is Texas, and when in doubt, it's a... a... No, I won't say it. I won't do anything to make that muther-f***** more of a reality than it already is.

Save me!