Because that’s what you say in tech, right? I’ve always wanted to be a software tester. (Always means ever since I got sense and shifted my flaming passion for Scottish Literature—why, yes, Scotland has a literature—to all things tech. After all, it is a truth universally acknowledged that code is poetry.) If you’re, like me, deeply
Part of WordPress’s writing course Finding Everyday Inspiration. Today’s writing prompt is a shameless advertising of Google Maps, which we are supposed to use as a starting point for our story. I’m not doing product placement. I don’t even like Google Maps. They’ve led me to unspeakable places where I didn’t want to go in the
Part of WordPress’s writing course Finding Everyday Inspiration. Today’s challenge is to play with word count. I don’t consider word count too attractive a toy to play with, but out of sense of duty, I shall oblige. I’ve been producing posts of unchristian length lately, so in contrast, here’s a post of a christian length. A
Amen and then there was — nothing.
In response to Laura Feasey’s Literary Lion challenge: Drink Me. Long time nae see. He stroked the bottle. Ye cannae face life when yer dry. Sammy took a gulp. Ah’ll miss ye when I’m deid.
He would take Ben for a walk. He loved Ben. He always wanted a dog. But father didn’t let him. No animals in the house, he said. He didn’t love father so much. Mother was way better. She allowed him Ben. As long as it’s just THIS, father said. But he was angry. Now he
My flat has been bugged. Buggers. I don’t mean surveillance bugs, unless the big brothers in FBI or KGB are using actual bugs as spy drones. I woke up hearing tapping sounds as something was making contact with the blinds. I was about to yell at the cat to cut it or she’ll take the
I have highly irregular sleeping patterns, which involve phases of sleeplessness alternated by phases of sleepmania. Today I was struck by an episode of the latter. I went to bed at five am, which is pretty much my usual hour when I’m working. I work at nights because I’m an owl (or a vampire, but shh). I
This is about the cat. Again. But I swear it’s a cat story the like of which you never heard before. My cat woke me up, as usual, at an ungodly (and unmanly) early hour of the morning, when she was amusing herself by chewing the blinds. I’m not at my finest when disturbed from
In response to Laura Feasey’s Literary Lion challenge: Pool. The old man didn’t like doing that. But someone had to. It had been raining and the old corroded tub in the backyard was half-filled with dirty water. That would do. It was about time too. They were already starting to crawl, squealing like rats as