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Since dad was using the computer a lot last night, and I was actually awake and wanting *something* to do, I ended up going down into the basement.
My sister's room was down there, before she moved out. And as I've already noted, neither sibling did a great job of getting their stuff out of the house. This has been further proved by the state of the basement.
After screwing in a bulb, so there was more light, I stepped into her room and just gazed about. I was looking for another light. Sadly, there weren't more. What I did find, almost immediately, was my copy of Soul Music turned into a paper brick by the empty coke bottle next to it.
Light Fantastic and Colour of Magic appeared a few moments later, both NOT bricks. Happy, I set them up somewhere, and picked up the pencil case that looked suspiciously familiar.
As well it should.
It was mine. To prove this, I give exhibit A: a pair of earings. And exhibit B: The purple unicorn shaped eraser I never actually used. Exhibit C: were the pair of gloves I'd made of an old pair of stockings, that I used to wear when I drew on the walls in pencil (kept me from wiping away my own lines).
Case and books were moved further back towards the stairs, and I pulled out my flashlight. It was purple.
If nothing else, I now have lots of visual material to describe for later crime scenes in novels. Since that's basically what it was like, going through my sister's room. The amount of filth around her water bed was staggering. If I'd been living there... Ugh.
A sprung leak is NO excuse for what I found. I'm sorry, but it isn't. Trash piled on top of trash, with the underneath being a congealed mass of mould now.
I made my way around the furnace, looking here and there, dodging huge cobwebs, and wondering vaguely if it were worth it.
Minutes later, the second of those Ice Cube candle holder blocks in my hand, I decided it almost was. (Y'know, the ones that you see in the Party Lite catalogue, and there's three of them, and they look like... ice)...
Discovery of a box full of MY books, as well as the leather folder I'd gotten off of Kathe a few years back fueled a vague ire.
My copy of Arrow's Fall will NEVER be the same. It's rather mildewed. As is Arrow's Flight. Luckily, I neither care nor read these masterpieces anymore anyway (yes, that was sarcasm. Sort of).
I also found Wyrd Sisters, Lords and Ladies, Dragonsword (Fuck, Duel of Dragons is STILL missing), and the Fourth Doctor Handbook (I'd wondered where that got to), as well as the large copy of Anne Rice's Witching Hour Kathe'd dropped in the Wraparound office.
All of this, I proceeded to bring upstairs (along with a black lamp that looked vaguely cute. Sadly, it doesn't work).
In going through the leather thing, I discovered a LOT of things. For instance, a receipt for Sourcery. So I *do* own it. It's still missing. All hell may break loose at Thanksgiving (Thou shalt not defile Rincewind, especially when it's *Lyssie's* copies of Rincewind). There were also a bunch of pages torn from Hly's notebook detailing quotes from Southerncon (Hah!), and a bunch of hard copy.
Much of that was crap, but there were some gems. The hard copy of Touching Evil's third season, which I'd started pulling dialogue and scenes for in an attempt to novelise it, for instance (I flipped through it. Some of it isn't all that bad).
In the end, though, I. Was. Right. The little bitch DID have my Pratchett books (one more than even I'd expected). And she probably still does. Maskerade, Hogfather, and Sourcery are still missing.
8 books. 4 recovered. 1 destroyed. Oh, yeah. Thanksgiving might just be interesting.
My sister's room was down there, before she moved out. And as I've already noted, neither sibling did a great job of getting their stuff out of the house. This has been further proved by the state of the basement.
After screwing in a bulb, so there was more light, I stepped into her room and just gazed about. I was looking for another light. Sadly, there weren't more. What I did find, almost immediately, was my copy of Soul Music turned into a paper brick by the empty coke bottle next to it.
Light Fantastic and Colour of Magic appeared a few moments later, both NOT bricks. Happy, I set them up somewhere, and picked up the pencil case that looked suspiciously familiar.
As well it should.
It was mine. To prove this, I give exhibit A: a pair of earings. And exhibit B: The purple unicorn shaped eraser I never actually used. Exhibit C: were the pair of gloves I'd made of an old pair of stockings, that I used to wear when I drew on the walls in pencil (kept me from wiping away my own lines).
Case and books were moved further back towards the stairs, and I pulled out my flashlight. It was purple.
If nothing else, I now have lots of visual material to describe for later crime scenes in novels. Since that's basically what it was like, going through my sister's room. The amount of filth around her water bed was staggering. If I'd been living there... Ugh.
A sprung leak is NO excuse for what I found. I'm sorry, but it isn't. Trash piled on top of trash, with the underneath being a congealed mass of mould now.
I made my way around the furnace, looking here and there, dodging huge cobwebs, and wondering vaguely if it were worth it.
Minutes later, the second of those Ice Cube candle holder blocks in my hand, I decided it almost was. (Y'know, the ones that you see in the Party Lite catalogue, and there's three of them, and they look like... ice)...
Discovery of a box full of MY books, as well as the leather folder I'd gotten off of Kathe a few years back fueled a vague ire.
My copy of Arrow's Fall will NEVER be the same. It's rather mildewed. As is Arrow's Flight. Luckily, I neither care nor read these masterpieces anymore anyway (yes, that was sarcasm. Sort of).
I also found Wyrd Sisters, Lords and Ladies, Dragonsword (Fuck, Duel of Dragons is STILL missing), and the Fourth Doctor Handbook (I'd wondered where that got to), as well as the large copy of Anne Rice's Witching Hour Kathe'd dropped in the Wraparound office.
All of this, I proceeded to bring upstairs (along with a black lamp that looked vaguely cute. Sadly, it doesn't work).
In going through the leather thing, I discovered a LOT of things. For instance, a receipt for Sourcery. So I *do* own it. It's still missing. All hell may break loose at Thanksgiving (Thou shalt not defile Rincewind, especially when it's *Lyssie's* copies of Rincewind). There were also a bunch of pages torn from Hly's notebook detailing quotes from Southerncon (Hah!), and a bunch of hard copy.
Much of that was crap, but there were some gems. The hard copy of Touching Evil's third season, which I'd started pulling dialogue and scenes for in an attempt to novelise it, for instance (I flipped through it. Some of it isn't all that bad).
In the end, though, I. Was. Right. The little bitch DID have my Pratchett books (one more than even I'd expected). And she probably still does. Maskerade, Hogfather, and Sourcery are still missing.
8 books. 4 recovered. 1 destroyed. Oh, yeah. Thanksgiving might just be interesting.
