kortirion, I found my story! (I was logged in under my other name, doh!) I'm printing it out for bathtub reading with accompanying soundtrack and candles. *G*
Re: Pluto -- what's gonna happen to poor little Nix? Is it still a moon if it orbits a non-planet? (And? That voting was whacked, you astronomers!)
So, the guys that are rewiring my cable came in yesterday afternoon..
. notarysojac came home on his lunch break (bento box in tow) and promptly dubbed them Jay and Silent Bob. They were really nice, and it turns out they don't work for Comcast (they're contractors) and so they laughed at all my comcast stories, asked about my books and anime collectables, and admired my swords.
I told them I had money on Comcast turning off the connection to my building, starting the replacement, and then discovering that someone was away on vacation and they wouldn't have access to the apartment (or at least the crawlspace). They were horrified, and told me they were going to replace everything with new, parallel wiring and only when they were done would things be turned off and switched. They also laughed, and told me that the people in the apartment behind me (the first place they stopped in my building) were away on vacation, and they had a big bookcase covering their crawlspace hatch. Bwahahahaha
No actual wiring happened in my apartment though - since the apartments had thoughtfully given me half a days notice to "remove my personal belongings from the pantry" -I (that would be Jim, actually) had done just that. No one thought to tell us that the new wiring would require reaching multiple unreachable places in my home.
So, the boys came in and asked where my tvs were - I pointed, since they were standing in front of it. They seemed genuinely shocked that there was only one tv in the house, (hah, but they hadn't seen the computer bank yet) but told me they were required to put a jack in the bedroom, even though we have no intention of putting a tv in the bedroom and less intention of moving at the moment. He pointed to my powerbook, and said I could have internet in the bedroom, so I took him to the office and showed him the airport. But, required --- ok, so I took them to the bedroom. They took one look at my bookcase/lightbridge headboard and turned pale. I told them they were welcome to move it, but I wasn't going to help.
Lets go in from the office, says Silent Bob, and they poke their heads in and realize that wall is completely bookshelved. They also need to put a splitter in the wall between my other set of bookshelves and the actual tv station in the living room (clunky, heavy old console Jim and I built more than 25 years ago out of underbed drawers, and lots of Gondorian clutter.
We struck a deal. Jim had today off, they would rearrange their schedule to make sure we got done today. Jim and I would move the Gondorian clutter, and they would move the console. In the office, we could give them access by moving comics boxes out from under the wall shelves (which are, luckily, bracket and stanchion on that side), and in the bedroom, I would clear out the tiny bookcase that holds only manga and they would use that spot. All doable.
Today, they returned, smiled, greeted, and went down into the crawlspace where they promptly discovered that the hot water pipes under my apartment (not the only building they found this in, at least) have been leaking for some time, and the way is blocked by a small steamy lake of a toxic green color. They have gone to the super's office to report it, but they can't do anything till it gets handled.
My experience is that the apartments won't fix it over the weekend, and Jay and Silent Bob can either come back on Monday, or not till a week from Wednesday since they have a different job scheduled for next week. In the meanwhile, the office has not let us know anything, and there is no point putting anything away.
Hopefully, having so much stuff pulled out at once will encourage my packrat and I to see what can be rearranged, and what we can both agree on getting rid of. And, maybe in a month or so, I'll have reliable wiring and won't have to use Comcastic as my curse word of choice. And, I can only guess not living over a killer lake will be a plus. Perhaps they'll actual fix the leak behind the toilet, too, instead of simply tightening it every time I complain. (I could do that myself, you maroon. Though I understand that if you're allowed six minutes per call, that's all we're ever likely to see.)
And while this was happening, the UPS guy brought all the pieces JIm had ordered to make a new storage drive, so I see his weekend plans gleaming in his eyes.
Coincidentally, I had been up late watching scary science on the scary science channel last night while I moved things - a program about killer lakes, and one about rogue waves.
I hadn't intended to be up that late, since J&SB were coming back today, but the rogue wave thing was interesting since I just read that book about the deadly Sydney to Hobart in 98. And then they got into physics, which both fascinates me and makes my head spin. (I'm fine with the Newtonian Universe but the minute you get to Michaelson-Morley I get the urge to put a pillowcase over my head. I can follow it, but I can't make myself believe in it.) There was CGI at the end of the program of a container ship sinking, and the containers sliding and flying around, and that contributed to my queasiness.
You Sunk My Battleship:
Jim had been asleep next to me on the couch, and sort of sleep absorbed bits of the scary science programing like he had been in the Venture boys learning beds, and combined them. During our traditional babbling-in-bed time, I told him the sliding containers had gotten to me and he ( it might help to know here that while I am prone to phobias like flying and insects, Jim is phobic about... well, Continental Drop-off) replied that he was concerned that if the effect of bubbles of trapped gas in the killer lakes being released happened to the hydrates that form by steamer vents at the bottom of the ocean and they sublimated, the result could make the water at the surface less dense than regular water, causing ships to plunge into the hole.
"Wait," i said. I was familiar with the idea, but had never thought about in pictures before. "So, if you pass gas in the bathtub, you could sink a rubber duck?" Jim admitted that he though one could, though rubber ducks are awfully buoyant, and you might have to use a toy boat.
Just finished reading Peter Carey's Wrong About Japan. I've now read two of his books, (both non-fiction, not his Booker prize stuff) and my current thought is that while I liked both books, I have taken a real dislike to him.