Well, I went and signed up with Spherion yesterday, and they seemed impressed by my typing skills. I scored 60 wpm on the typing test, including errors, which is very cool. I always have this insecurity about my typing skills, because when I took typing in high school, I got a B the second semester and therefore had to settle for being salutatorian of my senior class. I mean, I'd rather be salutatorian because I got a B in physics or something that really challenges the brain -- but typing??
No more plaster has fallen from the ceiling in our room, which is a blessing. Dad H. came up this morning and put up brown paper over the hole, to keep the coal dust from sifting down over everything. I helped him, though I was a bit leery of the electric staple gun. I am always leery of dangerous machinery that I'm not operating myself. If I'm using it, what could possibly go wrong? ;-) Though I did hear this story once about a construction worker who had a nail gun and fell off the roof -- and as he did so he inadvertently discharged the gun and nailed himself to the wall by the arm. So instead of getting his neck broken, he was half-crucified, and survived.
In other news, I typed up my little story and submitted it to The Sugar Quill, and got back an email last night from my new beta-reader. I have been very impressed with much of the fanfiction I've read there -- I was most recently wowed by Teri and Alec's Young Tom Riddle series, though I haven't read Imperius Quidditch yet. And of course, I went through agonies last summer waiting for Rebecca to finish If We Survive. So I'm not sure what's taken me so long to post anything to such a good site as the Sugar Quill. Oh well. I'm looking forward to seeing my story up there soon.
For anyone who has not yet read it, I have also written a crossover HP/West Wing fic, archived at my website:
Teamwork: Or, To Conjure a Fire
People have told me that one doesn't have to be a West Winger to understand the story, which pleases me.
Comments are very welcome.
No more plaster has fallen from the ceiling in our room, which is a blessing. Dad H. came up this morning and put up brown paper over the hole, to keep the coal dust from sifting down over everything. I helped him, though I was a bit leery of the electric staple gun. I am always leery of dangerous machinery that I'm not operating myself. If I'm using it, what could possibly go wrong? ;-) Though I did hear this story once about a construction worker who had a nail gun and fell off the roof -- and as he did so he inadvertently discharged the gun and nailed himself to the wall by the arm. So instead of getting his neck broken, he was half-crucified, and survived.
In other news, I typed up my little story and submitted it to The Sugar Quill, and got back an email last night from my new beta-reader. I have been very impressed with much of the fanfiction I've read there -- I was most recently wowed by Teri and Alec's Young Tom Riddle series, though I haven't read Imperius Quidditch yet. And of course, I went through agonies last summer waiting for Rebecca to finish If We Survive. So I'm not sure what's taken me so long to post anything to such a good site as the Sugar Quill. Oh well. I'm looking forward to seeing my story up there soon.
For anyone who has not yet read it, I have also written a crossover HP/West Wing fic, archived at my website:
Teamwork: Or, To Conjure a Fire
People have told me that one doesn't have to be a West Winger to understand the story, which pleases me.
Comments are very welcome.
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