Ramblings from the Desert

The man who trades freedom for security does not deserve nor will he ever receive either. ~Benjamin Franklin

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Location: New Mexico

Author of the urban fantasy novel, The Music of Chaos, and the paranormal romance, The Canvas Thief.

Thursday, February 17, 2005

Dog Stink

I need a dozen or so of those plug-in air fresheners. My house smells like a kennel.

I'm not sure how two dogs, one large but nearly hairless and the other tiny, can generate so much stink. One solution is to bathe them, but I'm a lazy, convenience-driven American. Why hassle with wet, unhappy dogs when there's an easier way?

Usually, I'm used to my dogs' odor. But, sometimes as I walk into a room--in particular, the bedroom or living room--I get a whiff of kennel. Which means, to someone else, the smell must be on par with a visit to the dog pound.

When I quit the full time gig, I think I made all sorts of wild claims regarding getting more housecleaning done. I imagine the J-man was hoping the housekeeping fairy would set up shop in my head. Unfortunately, my muse is a jealous bitch and wouldn't tolerate interlopers.

The inlaws are supposed to be here for a day or so this weekend. I guess that should motivate me to do some cleaning. But then, they bring their dog, Maggie, adding to the canine atmosphere. So why bother? Entropy, can't fight entropy.

The weather is cloudy, but no precip. In other words, crap-tastic. If it's gonna be this gloomy, it should rain.

Writing...
Did nearly all the heavy revisions on "Meddling in the Affairs of Dead Mules." Currently contemplating the location of the final scene. I think I may change it so the story begins and ends in the same place. Have no idea what to do with it--marketwise. Might just ship it off to Writers of the Future Contest (WOTF) while I'm deciding on other markets. WOTF is free, so all it costs it postage.

There is a SF/F/H conference this weekend, put on by SouthWest Writers. Still haven't decided whether to go or not. The J-man's parents will probably be here; if the weather holds they'll be helping him pour the foundation for the garden shed. Might be as good a reason to make myself scarce as any, lest someone try to put me to work. Concrete, icky.

 

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