As you can probably tell from the complete lack of postage in recent weeks, things have got a bit hectic at Casa MacBride of late. Partly this is due to getting everything finalised for Halfhead coming out in September, partly it's down to trying to catch up with Book Number The Sixth (still no word back on the latest possible title), and partly it's down to the fact I'm jetting off to the Antipodean winter wonderland next Monday, and a whole heap of stuff has to be finished before I clamber onboard the plane.
Wow, even typing that is enough to set my blood pressure rocketing. "Next Monday" Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! I'm actually really looking forward to it. Have been for years, and years, and years... It's, like, a whole different continent, dude! Where the mice are all huge and have wee pooches for their baby mice things. And you can eat them too. How cool is that?
The only trouble is that I now have to trust the family homestead to the care of She Who Must Be Watched Like A Hawk In Case She Tries To Blow Up The House Again. I could leave Grendel in charge, I suppose. After all, she reached her majority last week - she turned 5. Ah, children, they grow up so fast. And still manage to leave random frothy puddles of squishy barf on the kitchen floor when you least expect it. And are walking about in your bare feet.
Actually, here's a question for you: what's worse, stepping in cat barf in your bare feet, or when you're wearing socks? After all, if it's on your bare feet you can just hop to the sink and wash it off. If you're wearing socks it soaks right in. Urgh...
But I digress.
Something else happened last week (well, technically lots of things happened, it was a whole week after all. For example more of our lovely MPs were exposed as a bunch of thieving cock-weasels, and people were stunned and outraged by this most un-politicianish behaviour*), She Who Must Be The Luckiest Woman In The World and I celebrated fourteen years of marriedness**. Yup, I've managed to put up with her for fourteen years.
Apparently my knighthood is in the post.
* I've been meaning to post about the whole MPs expenses thing for ages. What I loved most of all was when they hounded the Speaker into early retirement. Their outraged argument seemed to be: "How could you! You were supposed to be in charge! Why did you let us get away with being thieving cock-weasels all this time? It's all your fault!" Hmm... personally I kinda think it's the MPs faults for being thieving cock-weasels in the first bloody place, don't you?
But I love the fact that everyone's so shocked that our politicians turned out to be less than squeaky clean and morally upstanding. I mean, come on: they're fucking politicians. What did you expect? I've never met one I wouldn't want to truss up with cable-ties, fasten to a lawn chair, and douse with a liberal mixture of honey and killer bees.
And when the aforementioned thieving cock-weasels get caught with their hand in the public purse, the defence always seems to be, "Everything I've claimed for was allowable under the rules...." But then, they would be as the 'rules' seem to be, "Claim for whatever you think you can get away with."
** I gave her anchovies as an anniversary gift. Lots and lots of horrible anchovies. She loves them, but then she's a bit strange.
Labels: Book Number The Sixth, events, Grendel, Halfhead, Stuff about me