From the mailbag

What went before:  CONTEXT: Last night after I said good-night, I made the mistake of checking my mail in which there were not one, not two, but no less than four . . . ill-worded "requests" that I do Just This One Thing that would make the asker's life "easier." And I snapped. Because it's not like I don't have Stuff to Do.

Response follows posted to FB follows.

Sigh.

Apparently, it is again time to remind (some) people that, just because it would make life easier for you if I did X, does not mean that I will do X. In fact, it pretty much guarantees that I won't do X, because I'm Just. That. Contrary.

Also? I am not the Nice One. I have never been the Nice One. That would have been Steve. Who you pushed at your peril, I might add. Black Knight in this corner, and the only things that keep me from knifing you rather than look at you are Good Manners and a disinclination to clean up the blood.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. My apologies to all the perfectly reasonable, kind, and polite people out there who did not need this reminder.
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Monday

Oh. A question regarding last night's TED Talk: "Did Steve know you are mean?"

Good question.

ANSWER: No, he did not know that. Because? I'm not mean. As a measuring stick we can use the fact that Steve did not, in fact, care for mean people. I believe this was because he thought meanness was banal. I also think that Steve -- who believed that we only get to do this life once -- thought that meanness was a waste of time and resource.

Now, while that was a good question, a better question would be: Did Steve know I am a Black Knight?

And the answer to that is: Yes. Yes, he did. And he celebrated that. I am for instance today wearing a pair of tights he gave me -- stick with me, now -- which have a graphic on the right thigh. Of a dagger thrust through a garter.

So, yeah, Steve knew who I am. Thank you for asking.

Relative to the notion of nice.

Some time ago, I was part of a panel -- I think it might have been at COsine -- dedicated to remembering the late Anne McCaffrey, as a person, and a force of nature, a mentor and friend to younger writers, and so on. The idea that came around more than once was how generous Anne was with her time, and how kind and accessible she was to those writers who were younger than she in our craft.

And as I was leaving the panel, a man deliberately stepped out into the aisle, blocking me on my way out (Why me? is the question I always ask at times like this), and said, rather belligerently: "You were all up there talking about how nice Anne McCaffrey was (NOTE: We were not. Anne was not nice. I say this with love.) and not one of you mentioned that she took a guy's house away from him! That's not what I'd call nice!"

ASIDE for those who may not know the story: This is true, as far as it goes. Which wasn't quite the whole distance. The guy in question was infringing on Anne's work, and she was legally bound to stop him.

CONTINUING: "That's right, she did," I said to Belligerent Guy. "She told him to stop or she'd take his house. He didn't stop, she took him to court, and he lost his house. Being 'nice' doesn't mean you let people steal from you."

. . . which was about the time that Steve arrived at my side and the guy withdrew, apparently not willing to continue this discussion with another guy present.

Circling back a moment to Steve . . .

One of Steve's Gifts was that he took people as he found them. If he liked you -- or if he was interested in you -- he tried to help you . . . strengthen your reality; to be the best You you could be. It was my great good fortune that he liked and was interested in me. He stood between me and YOU SHOULD. He gave me room and time to learn and to grow into myself . . .

. . . while also making sure I knew exactly how hard it is to get blood out of a carpet.

Here endeth today's discursion.

Door replacement Day One

So! It's being an exciting old day here at the cat farm. Not only do we have monsters in Steve's Safe Office, but the pest control guy came to check his traps. After he left, I went downstairs to make sure he'd shut all the doors, and realized that I had not seen either Rook or Tali, both of whom I'd assumed were in the basement (Firefly is in my office, in Trooper's box, napping, and occasionally raising her head to make sure I'm still here.)

Anyhoots, I went on a Kitten Hunt. I found Tali at the bottom of the bed under the spread. Rook. . .

Rook was squinched up into the TINIEST LITTLE BLACK FURBALL IT WAS EVER POSSIBLE TO BE, between the dresser and the wall, with his head shoved *behind* the dresser.

Reader, I thought he was dead. That he had, I dunno, gotten his head stuck and couldn't breathe, and, and, and . . .

I knelt down, kicking Tali in the process and now I don't know where she is again, and I whispered, "Rookie?"

He pulled his head out and looked at me. You've never seen such big eyes. Never.

I talked to him and he came to me, and I snuggled him and now he's in my bathroom with some water and a plate of crunchies.

And I? Ought to have some lunch, I guess...
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Tali joined me for lunch and is reposing beneath the dining room table.

I went back to visit Rookie in his safe place, and at his insistence, I let him out. He made a belly-to-the-floor dash into the living room and is now under the sofa.

Frankly, I'm amazed he can still fit under the sofa.

Firefly is sleeping in the box on my desk.

I had foolishly thought I was going to be able to get some work done
today, but that's clearly not happening.
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OK. The lads are leaving, and will be back tomorrow to do the inside trim.

The other thing I thought I do today was run out to the store for, oh, yeast, and milk, and parmesean cheese, but, yanno? I really don't want to go from "There are MONSTERS in our safe room!" to: "AND THEY ATE OUR MOM!"

So. . . maybe tomorrow? I'd really admire having yeast and milk in the house before everything stops for The Big Day.
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Crew is gone. I have Doordashed my needs (including Tylenol. This is no time to be out of Tylenol.) And again, my thanks to everyone who thought/thinks of me with Doordash gift cards, because My Ghod they are a lifesaver.

I'm exhausted and I didn't do any work.

Well. The new windows will be great. I think even the cats will appreciate them.

Eventually.

. . . I guess I ought to go see if Rookie is still under the sofa.
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Yeah. I'm just going to have to come to terms that I'm not getting anything useful done today (well. I made hummus. And tuna fish, because tonight I will be having tuna melt for dinner.), and will try for tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow, it's supposed to start snowing a little after noon, accumulating about an inch, and keep on snowing through the night, accumulating another 3 to 5 inches,

So, I'm in for the foreseeable. Which is fine.

Oh. Doordash. Happened in record time. Mary was awesome, and I have all the Necessaries.

Cats all accounted for, and mad that I will let them into the back hall but not into Their Room.

I do believe I'll have a glass of wine.

This was not supposed to be quite so stressful an undertaking.

Everybody stay safe; I'll check in tomorrow.

All present and accounted for