Snikt-snikt.
Snikt-snikt.
Snikt-snikt.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Peggy," I said in as soft and calm a manner as I could manage, "would you please stop that?"
Snikt-snikt.
Snikt.
I looked up from the table where I'd been laying out paper plates, napkins, cups and cutlery. Peggy was staring down at her hands, wonder/confusion/fear/curiosity still on her face as it had been for most of a day now, apparently completely absorbed in studying how the 8-inch metallic blades emerged from between her fingers. "Peggy?" I repeated, a bit more sharply than I'd intended.
She started, and looked up. Snikt. "Huh? What was that?"
I sighed, and she frowned just a little. She doesn't like it when I sigh too much. "Never mind. Not important now." I waved at the dining room table. "Help, please? Our guests will be showing up any minute now."
At least she wasn't going nuts cleaning, which is what she usually does when we have company coming -- pails and buckets and brushes and scrub cloths, right up until the moment the doorbell first rings, and once or twice not even stopping then. But this time the lead time was too short, and (more importantly) she was too gobsmacked by her change.
Her change.
I'd been playing "City of Heroes" the night before. Peg had been in the living room watching one of her crime shows on the new HDTV we got just before Christmas. She has a positive addiction to those procedurals, the ones that aren't afraid to show a lot of gore and yuck. (I don't watch them -- I'm way too squeamish for it.) I don't know what she was watching, "CSI Boise" or "Law and Order: 4WD" or something, on one of the basic cable channels.
So anyway, at about five of ten I'd typed the critical phrase into the team chat channel: "BRB, BIO". I /afk'ed Evangelia and trotted off the master bathroom, since Peg had a couple of vases filled with bleach water in the hall bathroom and I didn't want a face full of chlorine while doing my business. (Why? Christmas greens were left too long in their water and got a little moldy. Peggy's not satisfied just to scrub that out with soap. She disinfects. With bleach. Over several days. No comments, please -- we all have our little neuroses.)
So I'm still in the master bath at just a hair before ten, and just barely over the ceiling fan I hear Peg call my name. Then there's a flicker in the lights like a near-brownout that makes the fan rattle, and a muffled "zorch-zap" kind of noise at the same time.
And about thirty seconds later, Peggy starts screaming.
At thirty-two seconds, I'm stumbling across the master bedroom trying to zip my fly and close up my belt at the same time; I carom off the corner of Peg's bureau, putting what I know will become a huge bruise on my left hip, then all but fall into the hallway. The doors of the master bedroom and the library are at right angles to each other at the end of the hall, with a little bit of wall between them, but because of the way the doors are hung and the arrangement of furniture in the bedroom -- I can't actually see her until I'm out in the hall proper.
By the time I got my first look, she'd stopped screaming -- but only because she'd gone into shock.
And I couldn't blame her.
"Peggy?" I asked, being rather naturally uncertain at that point, because the woman standing in front of the computer bore only the faintest resemblance to my wife. When I didn't get a response, I called her name again, a little louder.
Slowly, she nodded. "I... I think so."
...And that's all I managed to compose before lunch. I'll complete this when I get a chance, but between the double XP weekend, Peg's brother and sister-in-law being in town, and trying to release DW5-3 hopefully on Monday, I'm not sure I'm going to have the time to add to this until Tuesday or later.
For those who want to work up stuff happening in the house, here's a quick rundown of how things look. Our house is a one-story ranch, L-shaped, sage green in color with brick red accents. The front door is in the inside corner of the "L", off a recessed porch. One wing of the house, the one with the porch in it, is mostly the 2-car garage. The other wing extends toward the street, parallel to the driveway.
Go in the front door, and you're in a little foyer, created mainly by an L-shaped double closet that sets it off from the space beyond. Go around the closets to the left, and you're in the dining room and by the entrance to the kitchen. Go to the right, and you're in the living room with the hall to the bedrooms and bathroom to your right.
The living room and the dining room flow into each other as one big space, but we've laid out the couches such that it's functionally divided. We have two big couches -- one long sectional and an old couch that used to belong to Peg's mom -- facing each other, along with an armchair, a few tables, a credenza and several lamps, creating a "conversation pit". China cabinet, formal dining table and about 7 chairs in the dining room area. One big bookcase. Entertainment center with HDTV and stereo, visible from most of one side of the conversation pit, against the back side of the double-closet. Behind the side of the conversation pit that can see the TV is a mirrored wall between two windows.
Down the hall is guest bedroom on left, bathroom on right, then closet on left, library in middle front, and master BR on right. The library would have been another bedroom, but someone who owned the house before us panelled it in dark wood and put sound absorbing tile and dark wood beams on the ceiling. Library has many many bookshelves, big desk with computer, and lots of boxes. Oh, and a nice big leather chair for reading in. You can fit about 8 people in the library at once, more if they're friendly.
There's a second computer in the guest bedroom.
The yard is huge. If it weren't frickin' cold, you could put a hundred people in the back yard easy.
-- Bob
---------
...The President is on the line
As ninety-nine crab rangoons go by...
Snikt-snikt.
Snikt-snikt.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Peggy," I said in as soft and calm a manner as I could manage, "would you please stop that?"
Snikt-snikt.
Snikt.
I looked up from the table where I'd been laying out paper plates, napkins, cups and cutlery. Peggy was staring down at her hands, wonder/confusion/fear/curiosity still on her face as it had been for most of a day now, apparently completely absorbed in studying how the 8-inch metallic blades emerged from between her fingers. "Peggy?" I repeated, a bit more sharply than I'd intended.
She started, and looked up. Snikt. "Huh? What was that?"
I sighed, and she frowned just a little. She doesn't like it when I sigh too much. "Never mind. Not important now." I waved at the dining room table. "Help, please? Our guests will be showing up any minute now."
At least she wasn't going nuts cleaning, which is what she usually does when we have company coming -- pails and buckets and brushes and scrub cloths, right up until the moment the doorbell first rings, and once or twice not even stopping then. But this time the lead time was too short, and (more importantly) she was too gobsmacked by her change.
Her change.
I'd been playing "City of Heroes" the night before. Peg had been in the living room watching one of her crime shows on the new HDTV we got just before Christmas. She has a positive addiction to those procedurals, the ones that aren't afraid to show a lot of gore and yuck. (I don't watch them -- I'm way too squeamish for it.) I don't know what she was watching, "CSI Boise" or "Law and Order: 4WD" or something, on one of the basic cable channels.
So anyway, at about five of ten I'd typed the critical phrase into the team chat channel: "BRB, BIO". I /afk'ed Evangelia and trotted off the master bathroom, since Peg had a couple of vases filled with bleach water in the hall bathroom and I didn't want a face full of chlorine while doing my business. (Why? Christmas greens were left too long in their water and got a little moldy. Peggy's not satisfied just to scrub that out with soap. She disinfects. With bleach. Over several days. No comments, please -- we all have our little neuroses.)
So I'm still in the master bath at just a hair before ten, and just barely over the ceiling fan I hear Peg call my name. Then there's a flicker in the lights like a near-brownout that makes the fan rattle, and a muffled "zorch-zap" kind of noise at the same time.
And about thirty seconds later, Peggy starts screaming.
At thirty-two seconds, I'm stumbling across the master bedroom trying to zip my fly and close up my belt at the same time; I carom off the corner of Peg's bureau, putting what I know will become a huge bruise on my left hip, then all but fall into the hallway. The doors of the master bedroom and the library are at right angles to each other at the end of the hall, with a little bit of wall between them, but because of the way the doors are hung and the arrangement of furniture in the bedroom -- I can't actually see her until I'm out in the hall proper.
By the time I got my first look, she'd stopped screaming -- but only because she'd gone into shock.
And I couldn't blame her.
"Peggy?" I asked, being rather naturally uncertain at that point, because the woman standing in front of the computer bore only the faintest resemblance to my wife. When I didn't get a response, I called her name again, a little louder.
Slowly, she nodded. "I... I think so."
...And that's all I managed to compose before lunch. I'll complete this when I get a chance, but between the double XP weekend, Peg's brother and sister-in-law being in town, and trying to release DW5-3 hopefully on Monday, I'm not sure I'm going to have the time to add to this until Tuesday or later.
For those who want to work up stuff happening in the house, here's a quick rundown of how things look. Our house is a one-story ranch, L-shaped, sage green in color with brick red accents. The front door is in the inside corner of the "L", off a recessed porch. One wing of the house, the one with the porch in it, is mostly the 2-car garage. The other wing extends toward the street, parallel to the driveway.
Go in the front door, and you're in a little foyer, created mainly by an L-shaped double closet that sets it off from the space beyond. Go around the closets to the left, and you're in the dining room and by the entrance to the kitchen. Go to the right, and you're in the living room with the hall to the bedrooms and bathroom to your right.
The living room and the dining room flow into each other as one big space, but we've laid out the couches such that it's functionally divided. We have two big couches -- one long sectional and an old couch that used to belong to Peg's mom -- facing each other, along with an armchair, a few tables, a credenza and several lamps, creating a "conversation pit". China cabinet, formal dining table and about 7 chairs in the dining room area. One big bookcase. Entertainment center with HDTV and stereo, visible from most of one side of the conversation pit, against the back side of the double-closet. Behind the side of the conversation pit that can see the TV is a mirrored wall between two windows.
Down the hall is guest bedroom on left, bathroom on right, then closet on left, library in middle front, and master BR on right. The library would have been another bedroom, but someone who owned the house before us panelled it in dark wood and put sound absorbing tile and dark wood beams on the ceiling. Library has many many bookshelves, big desk with computer, and lots of boxes. Oh, and a nice big leather chair for reading in. You can fit about 8 people in the library at once, more if they're friendly.
There's a second computer in the guest bedroom.
The yard is huge. If it weren't frickin' cold, you could put a hundred people in the back yard easy.
-- Bob
---------
...The President is on the line
As ninety-nine crab rangoons go by...