Falling down around our ears

Good thing we're renting, though I rather imagine that Edward*, our long-suffering landlord, just wishes we would go away.  I don't know if I mentioned this before, but we didn't pay rent for something like 3 months when we first moved in.  We paid the first month's rent to the agency along with our deposit, then turned in our standing order form for all subsequent months (I don't know what it's like in the States these days, but around here, you can't just write a monthly check for your bills, which completely sucks; I hate being forced to use direct debit or standing orders for most things).  Problem was that our standing order wouldn't go through because their bank had been changed and bought out so many times that magic was required to make it work--or paying a month half in advance (as a show of good faith).  The standing order started working right after we cut them a £1200 check, which included the next month.  Joy.

Shortly after we moved in, we ended up getting a new washing machine.  Edward was not pleased, since he told me that the only reason the flat has a washer at all is because when he bought the place it came with it.  But that was part of our rental contract, so he bought us a new one.  The cheapest one he could find, which means no dryer, and it also means that 3 months or so along, the pump is already making questionable noises.**

Now we're getting a new shower.  Months and months ago, Adam and I reported that the dial--our shower is electric, which is not nearly as dangerous as it sounds, and means you never run out of hot water--for the shower was FUBAR.  We could still turn it on and off, but something had clearly broken inside, and we couldn't get it apart to find out what (the screws holding the cover on are rusted and partially stripped).  So Edward and his mate came out to look at it, and decided to order a new dial.  Problem is that the shower is kinda old, and definitely cheap.  Consequently, no parts made for it.  So it sat for ages as we couldn't agree on a mutually convenient time until last Friday, when they came out and glue-gunned it to hold the inside of the dial together.  30 hours later I go to take a shower and it's tight as sin to turn, but it's not slipping--yay.  Unfortunately, it also wouldn't turn off.  Luckily, the screws were no longer in so tight, so I could take apart the shower to turn the water off (this is where an electric shower is dangerous--exposed wires + water ≠ good times, so we're super careful, and glad that the tub isn't coated metal).  So that's been going on since Sunday, but a text this morning promised me a new shower, hopefully installed by Friday.

That same text also promised us two new radiators.  Yeah, that's right; along with the shower we're getting new heating, since the radiator in the bathroom hasn't worked properly since we moved in (I reported it then), and last week the radiator in the living room stopped working.  Completely.  It looks and sounds like it's working, but it doesn't heat up.  Sounds like the element is blown to me, but whatever it is, the electrician was not convinced it was fixable.  So he did some research or something, and for some reason or another, we're getting new radiators, also hopefully installed by Friday.  Since it's working its way to being brass monkey cold around here, I hope there are no delays.  Besides, it's impossible to get the laundry to dry without some kind of heating.

Other than the shower requiring a screwdriver for use, and it's cold in here and there's no heating (except in the bedroom), everything's great.  Oh, except for the stompy physio above us, and the (much more occasional) yappiness next door.

*Name changed to protect the slightly peeved.

**I've not told him about this.  When you finish the post you'll understand why.

90 Degrees

I've abruptly turned 90 degrees in my writing.  I've broken through the issues I was having with my novel, and that was starting to move forward again, which I was pleased with--though I can't deny feeling more than a little silly in hoping that I'd have a draft done by the time I got to the states, or maybe the new year.  Yeah, not gonna happen, unless massive inspiration strikes and I get on a roll.  To be fair, I was hoping that would happen, not expecting.

But the main reason it's been put on hold is that a friend of mine was a dear and posted a call for submissions on her blog.  It's for Carina Press, which is the digital imprint of Harlequin.  They do in fact publish more than just romance--in fact, they'll publish most things, as long as it's not young adult, women's literature, poetry, non-fiction, or literary fiction (and possibly a couple of others).  Added bonus: Carina Press is also open submission and doesn't require an agent.

This call is specific, and asking for science fiction holiday stories for their 2012 holiday collection (not explicitly xmas, just holiday).  The deadline is mid-March, which I can make pretty easily, provided I can learn to write science fiction before then--the science fiction needs to be a central element, not just wedged in.  I can read science fiction and I like it well enough, but so far all my plot ideas have been stolen from Star Wars, Star Trek/Gene Roddenberry, Luc Besson, Robert Heinlein, Joss Whedon, and a few other random sources.  Being married to an astrophysicist isn't helpful here (though as Claudia says, at least my hard science won't be wrong).  The good news is that I think I've found a plot line of sorts.  The bad news is that I don't know what to do with it or how to make it science fictiony.  I'm thinking robots.*  We'll see.

*No, not really.  I hope.

On the Ice

My uncle used to be stationed at McMurdo down in Antarctica.  He loved it.  I think part of why he loved it is because while he was essentially on-duty for 6 months straight (give or take), he was also granted shore leave for obscene amounts of time (which he spent in NZ and Santa Barbara, so that's pretty sweet).  They also basically leave you to it down on the ice; you have your duties, you know what they are, and you get on with them.  I would rather imagine that military discipline is not so strict down there.  He left the Navy because they couldn't give him a career doing that stint.  (note that I'm piecing together bits of information over the years gleaned from my mother and to a small degree my grandfather, so my interpretation here may not be quite accurate)

When you go down on the ice, you know the risks.  Your employer--military or civilian--makes sure of it.  Even in summer, it's freezing.  Literally.  Though military discipline might be a bit lax, safety cannot be--you could very easily die a dozen yards away from the base, and not be found for weeks.  People stationed there--civvies and military alike--get asked a different set of questions, including questions that are generally illegal for employers to ask, like "are you pregnant?"  Why can they get away with it?  Health and safety.  When you go down on the ice, that's where you stay.  They can't pull you out if you're bored, lonely, or sick.  You don't get to just quit when you're in Antarctica.  I wanted to apply for a job on the ice (I was woefully unqualified, sadly), and they asked a huge variety of personal questions, because it's lonely down there.  It's isolated, and isolating.  It's dangerous.  It's dark 24 hours a day if you're over-wintering (and light 24 hours a day if you're not).  You need to be fit and healthy, and mentally able to cope with the unique stresses extreme isolation brings (and extreme cold, and darkness).  You also need to be able to cope with the notion that you can't leave.  Plain and simple.  If you over-winter, once they get you in, you stay until they can get a flight back there, which is about six months.

There are medical facilities on the ice; McMurdo likes to think it has a hospital (it does have the largest, most complete clinic on the ice), and Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station also has a physician, and sat-links to consult with specialists if need be (yes, House was based on a real thing).  By plane--which is not possible in the winter--McMurdo and Amundsen-Scott are 3-5 hours apart, and it's another 4 hours to Christchurch from McMurdo, which is the closest city with advanced medical facilities.

I bring all this up because a woman at Amundsen-Scott might have had a stroke.  No one is sure, since the base doesn't have an MRI.  This happened back in August, and anyone who over-winters in Antarctica knows they're trapped from February until mid-late October (winter in the southern hemisphere, or "austral winter" if you wish to sound smart).  Now she and her family are fighting to get her off the ice and to New Zealand for treatment.  She's being told that they'll try to send a flight in on the 17th of October, but they don't know.  There are no runway lights, and the winds are so strong that the blowing snow (and presumably wind shear) may make it impossible to land anyway.  Plus, it's so cold that the jet fuel could start to freeze (if they shut off the engines, it could turn to a jelly-like consistency).  To risk a flight crew and any accompanying personnel, along with the plane--and anything in the way of the plane should it miss the completely dark runway--is insane.  That's why they say you're trapped down there; the risks of trying to pull you out are far too high.

I feel bad for her, I truly do.  I also felt terrible for the doctor who was administering chemotherapy to herself for the breast cancer she discovered while there (she ultimately died).  No matter how healthy you are, it's impossible to 100% predict if you will be ok while on the ice.  But one of the risks of working on the ice is that if you over-winter, you're stuck there.  You sign up knowing the risks.  I can't speak for the military, but for civvies, you don't have to take the job.  They warn you what over-wintering means.  And I imagine that for most people, the risks are part of what makes it exciting; for me, I wanted to work down there because of the extreme nature of the climate--it would nicely balance my working in Death Valley in the summer--the isolation, and the truly interesting idea of being in Antarctica, summer or winter (the job would have been in the winter).  Even balancing the risks, I would have done it.

According to the family and the woman, the real reason they're not sending a medivac unit is for financial reasons.  That may or may not be true; she's the station manager, so she is important, but (and there's no nice way to say this) not irreplaceable.  But for me, the bigger risk isn't losing the plane, but the danger of losing the flight crew.  It's a very expensive, very dangerous venture to try and pull someone out early.  They send planes in as soon as it's safe to retrieve staff, re-staff, and re-stock the bases.  Sending them sooner could mean death.  I understand that when you or someone you love is sick, you do everything you can to save them, but whatever happened to this woman happened well over a month ago, and while she's having problems (her vision is crazy now), she's communicating clearly.  I'm not saying a delay won't hurt, because I'm sure it won't help, but that's part of the risk.  And while you do everything to try and save someone you love, does that give you the right to try and pressure others into needlessly risking their own lives?  Obviously I don't know the whole story, but it does seem like the family is trying to pressure others into risking their lives to save this woman.

Steve Jobs: 24 February 1955 - 5 October 2011

Whatever else you may say, he was a visionary, and he changed the face of computing over and over again.  Rest in Peace, Steve.

Neighborly Woes

Or possibly neighborly anger.  Rage.  Frustration.  Homicide, even.

You might have noticed I'm anti-social.  I don't mind individuals, and I don't even mind going out sometimes and dealing with others from time to time.¹  But when I'm at home, I'm at home because I don't want to be dealing with these "others."²  These others piss me off, by walking, talking, smoking, and well, by merely existing near my presence.  There is a reason why The Boy and I want to live in the middle of a large piece of land with a similarly large wall around it.  That, and I like wandering around nekkid.³

At Titanic, most of this wasn't a huge deal.  Yeah, sure, we could hear the neighbors from time to time, but mostly it was just their washer, which being an inanimate, if loud and moving,⁴ object, didn't bother me.  Sometimes we'd hear an occasional trip up or down the stairs, and even more rarely, a party.  Or the random afternoon practice of Rock Band, which was kinda obnoxious, but usually limited to about 15-20 minutes.  Still, the one flat (with the exception of the link above) was super-quiet most of the time we lived there, and the other flat wasn't bad.  Plus, we were on the top floor, so no noise from above, and since our part of the building wasn't completed, we had no one below us.  And unless someone had binoculars or was on the neighbor's balcony, no one could see in.  Relative peace and privacy prevailed.

Here at Lewisham, it's a different matter.  We moved in below a physiotherapists' office.  I suppose the fact that they showed us the place on a Sunday should have been a tip, but we didn't pick up on it.  This place has the worst insulation of nearly any place I've ever lived, and that includes the apartment with the odd combination of nice and crappy that I lived in near PLU.  When you live below someone, you expect to hear some sounds (I guess, I hate living in apartment buildings, terraced housing, or basically anything that involves sharing a wall/ceiling/floor).  But these physiotherapists seem to make it their stock in trade to stomp everywhere.  This is doubly annoying, since at least one of the people who works out of the office claims to specialize in teaching you how to walk properly (whatever that means).  We can also hear them talking, and sometimes, make out the words.

This came to a head yesterday, although I refrained from going up there and popping it.  First, they arrived about 8:30 in the morning.  Adam and I accept that because he works anti-social hours we need to accept that others will be awake, active, and working when we're sleeping (we go to bed between 1:00am and 2:00am, and get up between 10:00am and 11:00am).  But at no time is it necessary for them to be stomping back and forth, back and forth, back and forth across our bedroom ceiling (the back of our flat is the front of their offices).  Nor is it necessary to yell "well if I'd know you were going to be here, I wouldn't have bothered to come in!"  And clearly it was necessary, because they proceeded to talk--not quite so loudly, but loud enough--for the next 2 hours.  Above our bedroom.  Whilst periodically stomping about, and stomping up and down the stairs to use the loo (many, many times.  Pea-bladders, all of them).

But it gets better.  Not only did they come in at 8:30am, but they didn't leave until sometime after 9:30pm.  They kept this shit up all fucking day, and I couldn't get any work done because if they weren't stomping, they were yelling.  And then in the evening, they seemed to have a party.  Complete with a screaming, crying child.  When I finally lost it and screamed up "Walk, don't stomp!" someone stomped on the floor at the same time I yelled "stomp."  Possibly coincidence, possibly jackassery.  Hard to tell.  Luckily, they didn't come in until this afternoon today, and I'm not sure they're even still there.  A repeat of yesterday would have earned them a visit from a cranky Katie.  A cranky Katie trying to be polite, but cranky nevertheless.

Instead, this morning we were presented with yapping dog, starting at 7:30ish (Adam and I disagree when it started).  Unfortunately, it wasn't outside, where it will either go away or we can deal with it.  We finally got neighbors next door over the weekend (this seems to have been an ongoing process, taking 6 or so weeks).  Monday about noon we were presented with drilling right outside our door, which was weird and ominous until we determined they were installing a satellite dish (the only form of TV we can get here, which is why we don't have TV).  I was also presented with a lot of fag smoke coming in through my open windows.  This isn't uncommon, unfortunately; we live immediately next to a footpath, and on an alley behind several businesses, all of whom seem to want to perch on our railing to have their cigs and make pointless phone calls.  But mostly it only happens once every couple of hours.  Monday, I couldn't see anyone, but it was pouring in, far worse than usual, and about every half hour.  So since I couldn't see anyone, I decided it was time to check the mail.  I opened the door, and got absolutely glared at by the cigarette slag sitting on the lower steps (the flats have steps into the gravelled "garden" area, and then steps from that up to the door), and possibly by the person on the upper steps (who I didn't get so much of a look at, since I didn't want to appear to be checking them out).  The look was so malevolent that I didn't want to say hi, let alone "stop blowing smoke into my flat!" for fear of getting shanked.  Seriously.  Complete chav-ette, this one, and a vicious one to boot.

So I finally gave up and left the windows shut, which really irked me because it was warm and I was using the windows to a) air out the flat, which always smells musty because it was closed up damp sometime well before we moved in; b) to try and dry out the damp (it ruined our dresser, actually--the bottoms of the lower drawers are warped, and that only happened since the move); and c) to dry the laundry in a timely manner.  Nothing else of note happened until about 10pm, when I left to meet Adam on his walk home.  At that point, a stereotypical looking male chav (tracksuit bottoms, wife-beater) was struggling with the door.  I don't know if he was trying to lock or unlock it, but he had a key, so I assumed he wasn't trying to break in.  Either way, I shrugged it off and hot-footed it off to meet Adam.

No extraneous noise from next door, and nothing of interest Tuesday (yesterday) except for my accidentally dropping a pan in the cupboard and a sudden outbreak of yapping, which went away fairly quickly.  This led us to assume a dog was now living next door as well.  That's the only actual identified occupant (though not by sight), since I can't work out who is actually living there.  Presumably the male who was projecting chav-ness, and one of the females.  It's only one bedroom, so it's unlikely that more are living there (at least legally).  It was also quiet both Monday and Tuesday nights, but well lit-up.  That was nice; with crappy insulation⁵ you never know what you're going to hear.  And because this is my house, I don't want to hear the neighbors, nor do I want them to hear me.

Enter this morning.  7:30am is the time, give or take (Adam says 7:35, I say 7:25).  I wake up, and the first thing I'm hearing is yapping.  Fairly continuous yapping.  And no one shushing the dog.  I hauled my butt out of bed to go pee and do some things on the computer before 8am (long story, but it involves our evil, lying ISP), hoping that by the time I crawled back into bed, the dog would shut up.  It didn't.

Then eventually it did (about 8:00, I figure).  So I started to drift off back to sleep.  As I started to enter that blissful first round of REM sleep, the yapping started up, and my REM ended.  About 8:30.  This cycle repeated until 10:00 or so.  Maybe slightly earlier; I gave up and got up about 10:20.  So far as I can figure, yap-master next door is hoping that by making noise, his/her owners will grant him/her some attention.  The flaw in this plan is that I think the owners aren't home--I think s/he's yapping because they left for work.  I'm also hoping that this is a puppy, who will grow out of it in time, or a dog trying to get used to new circumstances.  Mostly what I'm hoping is that this yapping will not be a regular occurrence. If it is, we'll need to learn yapper's name, and take to yelling "!  Shut-up!" through the wall.

Adam's thought is that the yapping started because someone got up.  My concern with that is the total lack of effort to shut the dog up.  If that's the case, it won't stop, and we'll (meaning I'll) have to go over and politely point out that the walls aren't insulated, and I'm having problems suppressing a desire to kill their dog.  And let's face it, anti-social though I am, I don't really want to start off on the wrong foot with the neighbors.  Though I might have already done, what with the slamming of the windows every time they were smoking.  Of course, it's possible that neither of those two live there, either.  Who knows.

At least it's quieter today.  Here's hoping the peace lasts.

¹Also known as "the public," and part, but by no means the only--or even the main, despite what I told my boss--reason I quit my job.  The real reason I quit the job was not something I could reasonably share with said boss.

²Yes, like Lost, I'm afraid of what they might do.  Kidnap me, kill me, or just irritate me.  The last is the kicker.

³Well, I used to.  Back when I wasn't cold all the time.  And when people couldn't see me.

⁴Thereby ignoring the definition of "inanimate."

⁵Read: non-existent.  I swear I heard the previous occupants--who moved out within a month of our moving in, take that how you will--fart a couple of times, though Adam says it was diagonally upstairs, which still proves my point of no insulation.

Reading List: September 2011

SEPTEMBER

55.  I Shall Wear Midnight, by Terry Pratchett (Discworld #38, Tiffany Aching Sequence #4)
54.  The Age of Odin, by James Lovegrove (The Pantheon Trilogy #3)
53.  The Killing Dance, by Laurell K. Hamilton (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #6)
52.  *Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, by J. K. Rowling (Harry Potter #4)

51.  Bloody Bones, by Laurell K. Hamilton (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #5)

AUGUST

50.  The Lightning Thief, by Rick Riordan (Percy Jackson and The Olympians #1)

49.  The Lunatic Cafe, by Laurell K. Hamilton (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #4)

48.  Myth Conceptions, by Robert Asprin (The Myth Series #2)

47.  Another Fine Myth, by Robert Asprin (The Myth Series #1)

46.  Resident Evil: Zero Hour, by S. D. Perry (Resident Evil Novelizations #0 (7))

45.  Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter, by Seth Grahame-Smith

JULY

44.  Circle of Flight, by John Marsden (The Ellie Chronicles #3)

43.  Incurable, by John Marsden (The Ellie Chronicles #2)

42.  While I Live, by John Marsden (The Ellie Chronicles #1) (sequel series to The Tomorrow Series)

41.  *Anne's House of Dreams, by L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables Series #5) (I'm making the same assumption as below)

40.  *Anne of Windy Poplars, by L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables Series #4) (I'm assuming I've read this before; I don't remember it, but the corners of some pages are creased as markers.)

39.  Circus of the Damned, by Laurell K. Hamilton (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #3)

38.  The Laughing Corpse, by Laurell K. Hamilton (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #2)

JUNE

37.  Guilty Pleasures, by Laurell K. Hamilton (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #1)

36.  *Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, by J. K. Rowling (Harry Potter #3)

35.  *Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, by J. K. Rowling (Harry Potter #2)

34.  *Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, by J. K. Rowling (Harry Potter #1)

33.  Ptolemy's Gate, by Jonathan Stroud (The Bartimaeus Trilogy Book 3)

32.  The Golem's Eye, by Jonathan Stroud (The Bartimaeus Trilogy Book 2)

31.  *The Amulet of Samarkand, by Jonathan Stroud (The Bartimaeus Trilogy Book 1)

MAY

30.  Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith (I've read Pride and Prejudice before, but sans zombies)

29.  I Am Number Four, by Pittacus Lore (pseudonym for James Frey and Jobie Hughes) (Lorien Legacies #1)

28.  *Anne of the Island, by L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables Series #3)

27.  *Anne of Avonlea, by L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables Series #2)

26.  *Anne of Green Gables, by L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables Series #1)

25.  The Red Queen, by Philippa Gregory (Cousins' War #2) 

24.  The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nests, by Stieg Larsson (Millennium Trilogy #3)

APRIL

23.  The Girl Who Played with Fire, by Stieg Larsson (Millennium Trilogy #2)

22.  Disappearing Ingenue Stories, by Melissa Pritchard

21.  The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson (Millennium Trilogy #1)

20.  Resident Evil: Code: Veronica, by S. D. Perry (Resident Evil Novelizations #6)

MARCH

19.  Resident Evil: Nemesis, by S. D. Perry (Resident Evil Novelizations #5)

18.  Resident Evil: Underworld, by S. D. Perry (Resident Evil Novelizations #4)

17.  Resident Evil: City of the Dead, by S. D. Perry (Resident Evil Novelizations #3)

16.  Resident Evil: Caliban Cove, by S. D. Perry (Resident Evil Novelizations #2)

15.  Resident Evil: The Umbrella Conspiracy, by S. D. Perry (Resident Evil Novelizations #1)

14.  Nation, by Terry Pratchett (NOT a Discworld novel)

FEBRUARY

13.  *King of Shadows, by Susan Cooper

12.  Zombie Apocalypse!, created by Stephen Jones (compiled)

11.  The White Queen, by Philippa Gregory (Cousins' War #1)

JANUARY

10. * Mrs. Pollifax and the Golden Triangle, by Dorothy Gilman (Mrs. Pollifax Series #8)

 9.  The Other Side of Dawn, by John Marsden (The Tomorrow Series #7)

 8.  The Night is for Hunting, by John Marsden (The Tomorrow Series #6)

 7.  Burning for Revenge, by John Marsden (The Tomorrow Series #5)

 6.  Darkness, be My Friend, by John Marsden (The Tomorrow Series #4)

 5.  The Third Day, The Frost (aka The Killing Frost), by John Marsden (The Tomorrow Series #3)

 4.  The Dead of Night, by John Marsden (The Tomorrow Series #2)

 3.  Skin Trade, by Laurell K. Hamilton (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #17)

 2.  *Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J. K. Rowling (Harry Potter #7)

 1.  Tomorrow, When the War Began, by John Marsden (The Tomorrow Series #1)