A -House- of One's Own
With windows, and doors, and walls, and plumbing, and rooms, and a yard, and oh my god, I'm about to own my own house.
I'm changing locales in August - I've known that since I moved to New Orleans to start work, three weeks before Katrina. Two years have -flown- by, and sometime in March, I started seriously considering the impending move back ( Read more... )
I'm changing locales in August - I've known that since I moved to New Orleans to start work, three weeks before Katrina. Two years have -flown- by, and sometime in March, I started seriously considering the impending move back ( Read more... )
John's never met someone with as many tells as Rodney. It's strange to know someone whose every emotion broadcasts in technicolor - and polyphonic - glory. It's reassuring to rely on Rodney's bad habits - sarcasm, belligerence, wild gestures - to rank situations somewhere between moderately-concerned and mind-numbingly-screwed. Rodney's tone as he fights to bring nuke-laden jumpers online tells John they've left mind-numbingly-screwed in the dust. John understands what that means, so he's off and running. Were he a better person, he'd have found better words than "So long, Rodney," but then, John has his own bad habits.
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Perfect that is! You're good at this drabble thing. :)
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