A Quiz and some freaky reptilian dren.

I am: Stanislav Lem This pessimistic Pole has spent a whole career telling ironic stories of futility and frustration. Yet he is also a master of wordplay so witty that it sparkles even when translated into English.

Which science fiction writer are you?

Of course I got Lem. And I am pleased.

These two bits I snurched off'a sclerotic_rings:

The Cretaceous of China, which seems to be an endless bounty of palaeontological wonders, has given up the skeleton of a two-headed choristoderan. What the frell's a choristoderan? That's why we have Wikipedia.

Also, herpetologists have confirmed parthenogenic reproduction in Komodo monitors (Varanus komodoensis). That's right, female Komodos can make little baby Komodos without the intervention of males. This is not too terribly surprising, as scientists have already confirmed parthenogenesis in populations of other squamate species (snakes and lizards) and some turtles.

Okay. Bedtime is upon this nixar.

Howard Hughes vs. The Elements

So. It's 6:30 ayem (CaST; 5:30 EST), and I'm standing in our basement, in water up to my ankles. And yes, that's how Solstice began this year. Spooky woke me about half an hour before, as she'd been awakened by some peculiar roaring sound. As it turns out, that was the torrent pouring from the hot-water heater. By the time we got downstairs, there was a lake. A small lake, yes, but a lake, nonetheless. Wet and pissed off, I came back upstairs while Spooky found the correct valve and shut off the water. Our landlord arrived sometime afterwards, before dawn, I think. In some places, there was more than a foot of standing water. Right now, we're waiting on whoever's coming to pump out the basement. The heat's off, which means it's mostly freezing in here, since this couldn't have happened last week when it was warm. And the water's off. No heat. No water. No viewscreens, no surveillance, no freezers, no fuckin' ice cream, no guns, no rubbers, no women, all we got here is shit. Okay, well maybe it's not quite that bad. Yet. But after the theft of Tuesday, a minor basement deluge and the attendant chaos on Thursday morning is quite a bit more than enough crap for one week, thank you very frelling much. We've mostly canceled our Solstice plans.

Oh. Wait. There's a commotion directly below my office which sounds like the floor may collapse at any moment.

Now its stopped.

Spooky took some photos for the insurance people. I'd post them, only I'm too tired and annoyed to be bothered. Sadly they were all taken after the water was shut off, so the mighty cataract itself has not been recorded for posterity.

I did manage to finish "The Voyuer in the House of Glass" yesterday afternoon. The story came in at 4,858 words, and it's an odd story, a bit more disturbing than I'd expected it to be when I began.

I'm wondering if it would be possible for me to transfer the entirety of my journal at Blogger to Typepad? Does anyone know? LJ would remain the main journal, with Typepad replacing Blogger as a mirror. I looked around the site yesterday and liked what I saw, but could not find an answer to this question.

I've been getting e-mails from people asking if they can help out in the wake of the iBook theft. Truthfully, the best thing you can do right now is subscribe to Sirenia Digest, bid in the current eBay auctions, or pre-order Daughter of Hounds. Or all three. Or hey, just send cash. Cash is always good. At any rate, the kind words were much appreciated yesterday, especially by Spooky.

I'm not sure what's to become of today. There will be no writing, I fear. And today will get an L, though it won't be my fault. Perhaps we'll go to a movie. Perhaps I'll just go back to bed. Poor Spooky, I think she's had maybe six hours sleep spread over the last two nights.