And the fey-infestation/mild haunting of our house continues. This morning, while I was in the bathroom getting ready for work and fosteronfilm was in the bedroom, heading towards sleep, my cell phone called his—both of which were in the living room.
So now we have lights that spontaneously go on and off, toilets that occasionally flush on their own, disembodied thumps, and cell phones that call each other.
I am thoroughly amused.
Heeee! Lovely! There is nothing so appropriate for a writer as a fey-infested home. It keeps the muse happy, and if a happy muse is at times a distracted muse (not that any of us have ever had one of those, right??), at least a happy muse is a productive muse, when she wants to be.