There’s No Place Like Plrtz Glrb

I wonder if anyone has ever written a paper about the wanton destruction of property and how it relates to the concepts of home and homelessness in the Buffyverse? Everytime I watch a “home” that I’ve grown fond of get torn up or chopped down or blown apart (for example — spoilers! — Buffy’s living room; the library of Sunnydale High; Sunnydale itself; Angel’s first L.A. office; various parts of Angel’s hotel; Lorne’s club over and over again), I think about it. It’d make an interesting paper. I’m not sure if there’s such a thing as “home” in the Buffyverse.

And a more serious matter: I wonder if anyone has ever written a paper about how completely outlandish it is that Lindsey McDonald was voted number eight on the list of the Top 20 Sexiest Men in the Buffyverse. Eight? Seriously? I won’t argue with Spike at #1 (even though I think of him as “generally fabulous” more than I think of him as sexy), and I can’t be surprised that Angel came in second, even though he wouldn’t have gotten my vote (I can deal with brooding, but brooding PLUS bonehead is too much, IMO), and of course Giles deserves to be high on the list, and Wesley is great, and I like Xander and Oz fine, but seriously, only eight? Lindsey is such a great character! And he can sing! And he knows how to wear those cowboy boots! And he has an evil hand!

So, all this is introduction to something you may have already noticed, which is that my blogging brain is full of cotton wool these days (….what is cotton wool, anyway? How can something be cotton and wool?). I haven’t really had a chance to rest yet from my big trip; I’m buried under tasks (and under things I haven’t fully unpacked yet); and I’m writing like crazy, which is good, but also exhausting. I have things I’d like to blog about (not all about the Buffyverse, either, I promise), but when faced with the choice between blog and novel, I need to choose novel. So, this is an official announcement that I’m taking a few weeks off from the blog.

My post title today is one of my favorite episode titles from Angel so far. (I’ve watched the first three seasons.) I need some time readjusting to my own home, settling, processing, cleaning, catching up, writing, resting. There really is no place like home, especially when you don’t live above a Hellmouth, there are no portals into alternate dimensions under your couch cushions, and the only demons you’re likely to encounter are the ones trying to convince you that the book you’re writing sucks. Try somebody else, demon buddy. It won’t work on me.

Happy spring to those of you in the northern hemisphere, happy fall to those in the southern, and to those who hang out around the middle — stay cool. :o)

(And if you’ve got any demons visiting — remember, they lie!)