Cleolinda Jones (cleolinda) wrote,
Cleolinda Jones

It's All Pirates, All the Time!

If you are not interested in 1) pirates or 2) Pirates of the Caribbean, this is going to be a very bad week for you at my journal.

"Orlando and I were sitting next to each other at the premiere, which was the first time I'd seen it, and we'd had a big talk and decided that if it was awful, we'd still leave the theater all smiles," she said.

Also, I read this article, very innocently not expecting to be spoiled on what I felt were a couple of MAJOR PLOT POINTS. I'm trying to go in as unspoiled as possible, to counteract the whole high-expectations thing. So if you see an article called "New 'Pirates' movie aims for box office treasure" and you don't want to be spoiled, stay away.

(Psssst: Word on the street is that there's a Snakes on a Plane novelization in bookstores now. I'm pretty sure it can't get any more awesome than this. Unless maybe they do Snakes on a Plane: The Musical!.)

Back to real life: Yay! I got another 2000 words in last night! I basically just started out reading over what I'd written the other day, started out touching up a few things, and ended up actually writing new stuff. It didn't have the narrative polish the other 2600 words had had--it was more in my "And then she walks down the stairs, I don't know what she sees then" style--but it got written all the same.

Meanwhile, everything is pretty much falling apart over here. The air conditioner downstairs won't condition, the icemaker in the fridge won't ice, my mother broke her new necklace, I knocked the dog over (it's a long story, but it involves pulling on his leash to make him stop chewing his leg and come inside, and instead of getting up and, you know, coming inside, he fell over on his back, waved his legs like a furry white cockroach, and gave me the most pitiful upside-down "Wha?" look. Hey, that wasn't a very long story after all), and then I whacked the shit out of my elbow. And now the air conditioner guy's left without fixing the dampers or whatever, and he's not coming back until Wednesday with reinforcements. Also, we don't even have any Coke for my rum.

So, since my mother was so harried when she stopped by to fix her necklace and talk to the guy, I offered to mop the kitchen floor for her so she wouldn't have to do it tomorrow. Much the way it is on ships at sea, swabbing the galley here is a pretty constant activity, because someone, by which I mean Meko, is always peeing on it. And since she's diabetic, it has a high sugar content, and... it's sticky, is what I'm trying to say. And we all walk around barefoot. So someone is usually mopping at least part of the floor at any given moment, because mere paper towels won't suffice for Lake Meko.

So my mother, micromanaging as usual (God bless her), pulls out the cleaning fluid she wants me to use. I'd last used a bottle of lavender-scented something or other from the laundry room; this was new. It was also bilingual. "They said it was a really good cleaner!" she said defensively, probably in response to my eyebrows. It's a tall green bottle of something called Fabuloso!, un limpiador multiuso con fragrancia duradera y la pasión de frutas. Somewhat interestingly, las frutas on the bottle aren't the usual lemons and oranges--they're apples and pears. Speaking of frutas, we had watermelon for lunch, which is probably not the most sustaining foodstuff ever, but it was hot and we were tired. I still think I got the better end of the deal, though, because even though I've spent the last hour swabbing, she had to flip the thermostat upstairs eighty times for the AC guy in the basement, haul the rest of the watermelon back downstairs, and wrestle the cat into the bathroom ("He's in there! No, no--the dining room! Don't slip on the passion of fruits!") to prevent an inopportune escape down the stairs. Pushing a sponge on a stick around the kitchen seemed like a picnic in comparison.

I'm supposed to be cleaning out my closet now, but... I think I'll try to write some more.

P.S. Say a little prayer for Roger Ebert.

Site Meter


  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

← Ctrl ← Alt
Ctrl → Alt →
← Ctrl ← Alt
Ctrl → Alt →