(no subject)

It's so rare for me to be up this late (or early?), I thought I'd make an entry and thrill the Europeans.

Except, alas, I have nothing to say.

I need some new LJ photos. Too bad I'm so damned lazy.

Fact of the day: dolphins exercise during pregnancy to prepare for childbirth (many animals do, apparently, but I'm especially amused thinking about dolphins).

I probably need a live-in

I guess Cristi is a good influence; I worked hard to getting the house cleaner this week. Last night, in fact, I stayed up until 4 am trying to reorganize the kitchen so we'd have much more counter space, and generally attempted to clean up well so our housekeeper wouldn't waste so much time moving clutter. Her last few visits she's hardly been able to clean because of how messy we'd left things.

And then she doesn't show today. ARGH!

It's amazing how many clothes I have to choose from when they are actually all clean, folded, and findable. I could outfit an army now (well, an army of fat women), but there have been days in recent weeks when I've been digging hard in the closet to find anything suitable.

I loathe foreshadowing in novels

I'm probably revealing myself to be even more of an unimaginative literalist than you already knew. But I have to say it: I hate hate HATE foreshadowing.

As in, there you are, reading along, approaching the end of the chapter, where the protagonist is saying "see you later" to a friend. Then the author ends it with "Later Jane would reflect back on that simple parting and feel grief that the goodbye had not been warmer--for that would be the last time Jane ever saw Joan."

Or the character goes to bed looking forward to all the great stuff planned for the next day, and then says "If I'd known what tomorrow would have really held for me, I'd never have gotten out of bed again."

It makes me want to throw the book across the room.

Oddly enough, though, I'm fine with omniscient narrators. And I don't seem to mind novels that start in reverse--you know, the main character is lying dead at the bottom of the lake with a boat anchor around the neck, and then the author shoots you back a few months or years or decades and you have to read the whole book to figure out exactly why the poor chick is turning into algae at the end. That seems to be a popular structure these days and I don't mind it.

It's the stupid hints I loathe.