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Being undead

One of these days, the internet is going to kill me. I’m not being hyperbolic – okay, maybe a little hyperbolic. See, the ‘net comes into my house in the basement. This is where the router is located. In other words, the wifi in my house sucks ass. So we have run ethernet cables to the computers, giving us wired connections. This is preferable in general (especially for streaming), but when we set up said cables, we did it in our typical fashion. Meaning half-assed and supposedly temporary.

Hahahahahahahaha *inhale* hahahahaha. Yeah.

Nothing “temporary” around this place is ever temporary. It’s kind of like how the word “literally” now means both literally and figuratively? Only for us, there is no meaning of temporary that is not some version of permanent. Semi-permanent, at best.

All of this to say, there are two cables meandering across my bedroom floor. This is only a problem where they cross a doorway. Unfortunately, that happens in three different locations. 

You may be saying to yourself “how hard can it possibly be to step over a cable?” And you’re right – it’s not all that difficult. For the average person, lifting their foot over a cable lying flat on the ground would not be a serious endeavor. However, my ridiculous ass can trip over air, so a cable is an ever-present danger. 

I used to come close to falling on my face multiple times a week while going in and out of the closet to feed the dogs (yes, we keep the dogfood in the closet. don’t @ me). A few months back (or last year or something – who the fuck knows, it’s covid time), I tripped and flung my hands out to catch myself. The good: I managed to catch my balance. The not so good: I was holding a scoop full of kibbles at the time. They went flying. Everywhere. We were finding pieces of dog food hiding among the various items on our desk for weeks.

For whatever reason, that area of the cables is no longer giving me problems (watch – now that I’ve said this, I’ll go ass over teakettle tonight). Unfortunately, the doorway to the bathroom is still a trouble spot. That one is especially treacherous because I have a large potted plant that is going to hurt like a motherfucker when I eventually take a header into the edge. Today, however, I just did my usual get-the-foot-caught-and-stumble. Win?

In another sense, the internet has already been the scene – if not the cause – of my demise. As I feared in my last post, House Meles has fallen. RIP in pieces. As the Undead Horde flooded into the Den, the Badger King found himself cornered. Having already lost one of his loyal Brocktrees to the voracious swarm, things looked grim. Exchanging a meaningful glance with the other remaining bodyguard, I threw myself in front of the grasping clutches of the undead so the final protector could whisk our liege to safety. 

Now I wander the writing wastelands as thatstormyghost and all my werds are belong to the horde.

And on that note, I should be writing.


Categories: general musing

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Stormy Lane McKnight

Writer of trashy queer superhero romance, smutty sci-fi, and other things that are gay af. Disaster enby and all around bisexual wrecking ball.