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Yesterday, I learned that the burglary alarm in my apartment will go off if the power fails. The monitoring company called my cell at 2:45pm to tell me that the alarm had been set off. I ran home to find everything locked up tight and all the clocks blinking midnight. I suppose if a burglar tried to cut the power to my place to steal a television, then this feature would be helpful. However, I doubt this will ever occur, so it is just a nuisance.
And the worst thing? I was putting company time to good use by writing a bit on the fiction I started a couple days ago. Things were flowing well when the evil alarm company interrupted me. As for the fiction, it's coming along fairly well. I'm still dancing around, not sure what direction it is going in. I don't even have a solid plot. Maybe something will come to me after another chapter or so.
As can be seen in these three paragraphs, I'm going the Snape-escaped-and-has-been-living-as-a-Muggle route, though I think I have a decent explanation as to how he managed to get away after the trio saw him die. (Nothing has been beta-ed and this is a first draft. I'm sure the passage below will be modified in some way before it is posted.)
Hermione pulled the hood of the light coat over her head as she stepped out into the misty rain that had been falling for hours. It wasn’t yet eight o’clock, but the sky looked as if it was nearing midnight. The cool air felt good on her flushed face while she hurried down the sidewalk, looking for the neon sign that denoted the café. Jogging the last few meters to the door, she prepared to duck inside the cozy store. Instead, she stopped and stared through the blurry storefront with absolute shock.
Sitting in the far corner of the small shop was a man who very strongly resembled Severus Snape. His black hair was haphazardly pulled back revealing the harsh lines of his face and hooked nose. He appeared to be dressed in black from head to two and was hunched over a newspaper on the small table. Just as he looked up to scan the windows, Hermione pulled away and slammed her back into the brick wall next door. Her chest heaved with every breath she managed to suck in.
It was impossible. Severus Snape was dead. He had died over five years ago on the dusty floorboards of the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. There was no possible way he could be sitting in a small café just blocks from her new flat. Trying to still her trembling hands, she pushed off the wall and turned back to her home, afraid to even risk another look at what could only be a ghost inside the café.
Jason's dad is coming over for dinner today. He's bringing the pizza. I was under the impression we were going to watch a video, but I don't know if Jason and I, being the weirdos that we are, have anything Jason's dad would be interested in seeing. Supposedly, Jason's sister is coming along as well, but I have my doubts. I get the feeling that she's very intimidated by Jason and I. This wouldn't be surprising, considering that we both believe her to be a worthless lump of a person. Her baby's attendance is still up-in-the-air. She may or may not come along. The dog may or may not come as well. I suspect we won't find out until they show up on our doorstep.
Gypsy, Jason's mom's dog, is still at the vet's office. Her survival is in question because she is so sick. The vet still isn't completely sure what is wrong with her, seeing as how her symptoms don't all point to one particular cause. The medical bill is climbing with each day, and Jason's mom is getting nervous about it. I'm sure it is well over a thousand bucks by now.
Meanwhile, the biggest drama from my family is the fact that my brother's can't seem to find a desk chair that won't break when they sit in it. My brothers are monstrously large--about six feet tall and at least 350 pounds. The scale ends at 350, doesn't it? I remember them telling my mother that they had made the scale go all the way around to zero again. It's not exactly something to brag about, you know? So, they're stuffing their faces and drinking soda directly out of the two-liter bottles. Rolling desk chairs with plastic legs won't hold them for more than a month before breaking. My mother thinks it's a crime that desk chairs aren't constructed better. I think it's a crime that she's not telling them to stop eating five ice cream sandwiches after dinner. My brothers think its a crime that desk chairs cost $150 at the office supply stores.
And the worst thing? I was putting company time to good use by writing a bit on the fiction I started a couple days ago. Things were flowing well when the evil alarm company interrupted me. As for the fiction, it's coming along fairly well. I'm still dancing around, not sure what direction it is going in. I don't even have a solid plot. Maybe something will come to me after another chapter or so.
As can be seen in these three paragraphs, I'm going the Snape-escaped-and-has-been-living-as-a-Muggle route, though I think I have a decent explanation as to how he managed to get away after the trio saw him die. (Nothing has been beta-ed and this is a first draft. I'm sure the passage below will be modified in some way before it is posted.)
Hermione pulled the hood of the light coat over her head as she stepped out into the misty rain that had been falling for hours. It wasn’t yet eight o’clock, but the sky looked as if it was nearing midnight. The cool air felt good on her flushed face while she hurried down the sidewalk, looking for the neon sign that denoted the café. Jogging the last few meters to the door, she prepared to duck inside the cozy store. Instead, she stopped and stared through the blurry storefront with absolute shock.
Sitting in the far corner of the small shop was a man who very strongly resembled Severus Snape. His black hair was haphazardly pulled back revealing the harsh lines of his face and hooked nose. He appeared to be dressed in black from head to two and was hunched over a newspaper on the small table. Just as he looked up to scan the windows, Hermione pulled away and slammed her back into the brick wall next door. Her chest heaved with every breath she managed to suck in.
It was impossible. Severus Snape was dead. He had died over five years ago on the dusty floorboards of the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. There was no possible way he could be sitting in a small café just blocks from her new flat. Trying to still her trembling hands, she pushed off the wall and turned back to her home, afraid to even risk another look at what could only be a ghost inside the café.
Jason's dad is coming over for dinner today. He's bringing the pizza. I was under the impression we were going to watch a video, but I don't know if Jason and I, being the weirdos that we are, have anything Jason's dad would be interested in seeing. Supposedly, Jason's sister is coming along as well, but I have my doubts. I get the feeling that she's very intimidated by Jason and I. This wouldn't be surprising, considering that we both believe her to be a worthless lump of a person. Her baby's attendance is still up-in-the-air. She may or may not come along. The dog may or may not come as well. I suspect we won't find out until they show up on our doorstep.
Gypsy, Jason's mom's dog, is still at the vet's office. Her survival is in question because she is so sick. The vet still isn't completely sure what is wrong with her, seeing as how her symptoms don't all point to one particular cause. The medical bill is climbing with each day, and Jason's mom is getting nervous about it. I'm sure it is well over a thousand bucks by now.
Meanwhile, the biggest drama from my family is the fact that my brother's can't seem to find a desk chair that won't break when they sit in it. My brothers are monstrously large--about six feet tall and at least 350 pounds. The scale ends at 350, doesn't it? I remember them telling my mother that they had made the scale go all the way around to zero again. It's not exactly something to brag about, you know? So, they're stuffing their faces and drinking soda directly out of the two-liter bottles. Rolling desk chairs with plastic legs won't hold them for more than a month before breaking. My mother thinks it's a crime that desk chairs aren't constructed better. I think it's a crime that she's not telling them to stop eating five ice cream sandwiches after dinner. My brothers think its a crime that desk chairs cost $150 at the office supply stores.
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Desk chairs aren't very sturdy. TSO doesn't weigh 200 lbs, isn't at home half the time, and still has trouble getting a desk chair that holds up. Something always goes wrong with them and they get wonky. But seriously big guys like your brothers would have more difficulty.
Sometimes it's good to live far away from all the family! I have enough drama with just the kids and my sister living near by.
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