Someone please tell me why I found the need to read a murder mystery last night??? It's totally cool for me to read one during the day - as long as the sun hasn't gone down yet. It seems like everything is scarrier at night, doesn't it? I started reading this book the other day and was just getting to the suspenseful part towards the end last night. I put the kids to bed, turned the tube off and made myself comfortable on the couch.
You know the sound your windows make when someone opens a door? The kind of "whoosh" sound against the window? Well, here I am really enjoying the fact that the murderer is closing in on the innocent damsel in distress and wondering how she's going to get out of it when the windows go "whoosh". As a side note: I got an email from the neighborhood watch guy that morning letting me know that his daughter's house in the next neighborhood over got broken into the previous night WHILE SHE WAS HOME ASLEEP IN HER BED!!! As the window "whooshes" I'm wondering to myself who's in the house? I mentally go through the checklist of locked doors and windows. I make a coughing noise hoping that whoever it was will know that I'm actually awake and at home. Then I listen really hard... nothing. So I turned the tube back on in an effort to make some noise and went back to my book.
I had a rough time sleeping last night. Stupid book. Stupid "whoosh". Stupid settling house. Stupid criminals who make me want to crawl under the covers with a stungun. (Anyone know where I can get one of those, by the way?)