waffus's Exile
I know. It's amazing. Three updates in one week. What a crazy lady I am.
Okay, so I'm not going to be able to update until next Saturday after this update because I'm going on a bit of an exile with the happy-yet-slightly-dysfunctional family. So yo, ho, ho and a bottle of fun (and chances are my parents will need the rum). We're flowing across the sea on a boat that just happens to be called a ship and weighs a ridiculous amount.
And, because you are all such great people, I decided that, because while you are all good people I am a bum and haven't updated "The Land of Qualms" in almost two months, so why not post a sneak, un-beta'd preview? Sounds just as great as U2. :)
“You know, I should start putting this in my schedule. ‘Wednesday - Meet with emotionally- and physically- crippled best friend - although that title could easily change soon if he doesn’t start working at his other relationships - and give him advice on how to actually make people want to hug him and not hang him or hit him with his cane while hanging out on his horribly hard floor.”
“Ah, Witty Wilson with his wacky way with words.”
“My alliteration was better. H’s out-rule w’s and you know it. ”
“Whatever you say, my loony linguist.”
“Do you ever think that, if we have enough time to sit here and shoot the breeze like the two old coots we are, that we really need lives?”
“Oh, but we do have lives. I have irritating Cuddy and you have your ties.”
Ignoring the sarcasm that padded House’s comment, he said, “First off, you do realize that within a month-or-so’s time you’ll be - God-willing - fathering a child, or, if not that, be a father at the least. And secondly,” he gestured with his hands to indicate that he was moving on, “there is nothing wrong with my ties. Just because you and everyone else in the hospital are having a “Wilson’s Ties” joke book published, doesn’t mean my ties are unfashionable. I happen to think my ties are extremely chic.”
“You and Jon Arbuckle.”
“God, House, I know I made a funny - and congratulations for recognizing something other than misery, sex, alcohol, drugs, or Gameboy for once - but this is serious. You’re going to be a dad, and Cuddy is pissed at you. It doesn’t exactly make for years of merriment with your kid.”
--- <--- (And skip some more dialog and descriptions to come upon...)
House continued to twirl his cane and stare out of the window, the sun a kiss of orange on the horizon. He may have been stubborn, may have been sardonic and sadistic at times, but he had to admit, at least to himself, that Wilson was right. He couldn’t commit, because committing to him meant pain. He wasn’t ready to willingly become high on happiness again like he had with Stacy - the ecstasy he possessed as they made love, as they laughed and were actually merry - and fall down once more only to be subjected to emotional pain so powerful and almost indescribable that physical aching was only a nick in his smile. With Stacy, he had hurt physically; after her, he was emotionally pained. And the only description fit for emotional pain, he thought, was the equivalent to a deep slice through the heartstrings.
So there is your preview. I had to do it. I know people have been waiting patiently for an update, and I thank them. They're all very wonderful people.
Well, that's about it. Bye for now.
(Oh, my good-bye kicks Porky Pig's in the butt!)
Okay, so I'm not going to be able to update until next Saturday after this update because I'm going on a bit of an exile with the happy-yet-slightly-dysfunctional family. So yo, ho, ho and a bottle of fun (and chances are my parents will need the rum). We're flowing across the sea on a boat that just happens to be called a ship and weighs a ridiculous amount.
And, because you are all such great people, I decided that, because while you are all good people I am a bum and haven't updated "The Land of Qualms" in almost two months, so why not post a sneak, un-beta'd preview? Sounds just as great as U2. :)
“You know, I should start putting this in my schedule. ‘Wednesday - Meet with emotionally- and physically- crippled best friend - although that title could easily change soon if he doesn’t start working at his other relationships - and give him advice on how to actually make people want to hug him and not hang him or hit him with his cane while hanging out on his horribly hard floor.”
“Ah, Witty Wilson with his wacky way with words.”
“My alliteration was better. H’s out-rule w’s and you know it. ”
“Whatever you say, my loony linguist.”
“Do you ever think that, if we have enough time to sit here and shoot the breeze like the two old coots we are, that we really need lives?”
“Oh, but we do have lives. I have irritating Cuddy and you have your ties.”
Ignoring the sarcasm that padded House’s comment, he said, “First off, you do realize that within a month-or-so’s time you’ll be - God-willing - fathering a child, or, if not that, be a father at the least. And secondly,” he gestured with his hands to indicate that he was moving on, “there is nothing wrong with my ties. Just because you and everyone else in the hospital are having a “Wilson’s Ties” joke book published, doesn’t mean my ties are unfashionable. I happen to think my ties are extremely chic.”
“You and Jon Arbuckle.”
“God, House, I know I made a funny - and congratulations for recognizing something other than misery, sex, alcohol, drugs, or Gameboy for once - but this is serious. You’re going to be a dad, and Cuddy is pissed at you. It doesn’t exactly make for years of merriment with your kid.”
--- <--- (And skip some more dialog and descriptions to come upon...)
House continued to twirl his cane and stare out of the window, the sun a kiss of orange on the horizon. He may have been stubborn, may have been sardonic and sadistic at times, but he had to admit, at least to himself, that Wilson was right. He couldn’t commit, because committing to him meant pain. He wasn’t ready to willingly become high on happiness again like he had with Stacy - the ecstasy he possessed as they made love, as they laughed and were actually merry - and fall down once more only to be subjected to emotional pain so powerful and almost indescribable that physical aching was only a nick in his smile. With Stacy, he had hurt physically; after her, he was emotionally pained. And the only description fit for emotional pain, he thought, was the equivalent to a deep slice through the heartstrings.
So there is your preview. I had to do it. I know people have been waiting patiently for an update, and I thank them. They're all very wonderful people.
Well, that's about it. Bye for now.
(Oh, my good-bye kicks Porky Pig's in the butt!)