I was awakened at just after 8 in the morning with the news that there was a meth lab in the apartment building. If you are not familiar with meth labs, count yourself lucky. They are toxic enough that they can kill you just by walking into the room. So the news that there was one in the building had cops and firefighters and swarms of other first responders all over the place, and we were waiting to find out if we were going to have to find another place to live for the next few days while a biohazard team sanitized the space. And I'm stuck in an apartment with my husband who can make a four-page melodrama out of "I'm out of cigarettes" in full rant about how we have to move and we can't afford to move and oh my fucking gods the universe is imploding!
Yeah it was cute ten years ago. Now I just wish I could belt him with a mallet to shut him up, but apparently there are laws.
So I deal with this situation in the time-honoured way of city-folk; I grab a cup of coffee, light my cigar and head to the front office to get all the gossip on the situation. Turns out that it was NOT a meth lab. Some genius dumped enough paint thinner on the floor of the storage room behind the office to freak out my upstairs neighbour. Since he has three tiny children I can see his point. So no meth lab, no emergency, no issue. We natter and cluck until the coffee is gone and the cigs are smoked, and I go back into the apartment where Mr. Composure is dragging out every suitcase we own.
"Are they coming to evacuate us?!"
"Everybody's gone home, it was just a false alarm. Some asshole spilled paint thinner."
"So what happened with the meth lab?!"
For sale - one husband. Will trade for three bisexual Goth boys who wish to be kept as sex slaves.
So that was my morning. This follows an evening where I heard from my sister - the one with the appendix fused to her colon that I gave my money to so my other sister could go visit her. The email she sent starts off quite nice, but then it drifts a little and her natural bigotry shines through like a lantern in the darkness. See if you can spot it.
Thank you for helping Laura get out to see me. I needed family big time. And a big thank you for your book. Though you put stiches in my stiches when I read the part about Deirdre learning the hard way about biting the jugular. I was most hysterical. I can't wait to settle down for the night to read. You really have talent and your humor has always crippled me. I miss you and your humor the most. I wish you had of held out for a proper publisher though instead of the one that published your book. Your writing and you deserve better. Talk to me soon love AJ. PS. If you have another book ready I'd LOVE to have it. Kisses.</i>
Aaaaaand my response -
Just hope you're feeling better, and that you enjoy the book. And... uh... what exactly is wrong with my publisher? Is it the fact that she pays me better than I would get at a "proper" publisher, the fact that she runs her own business, the fact that she supports her family, or is it the charity work that pisses you off? She's a damned nice lady and frankly after busting my ass for years trying to find a "proper" publisher, I wouldn't fucking work any place else. I like Torquere. They appreciate me.
And I suspect you would not like my other book. It has fags in it. Because I write for a gay publishing house.
Get well soon. - Alyx</i>
Honestly, when all is said and done, there are days when it is just not worth chewing through the straps.