Dragonfly
Ever wake up with a pesky feeling in the back of your mind that the world is just going to be OFF for the next goodness knows how many hours-days-weeks?

Yeah. Me. This Week.

In the words of Shaggy (every time he’s eerily correct): “I have a bad feeling.” The precursor to doom couldn’t be any plainer than that.

Is something in retrograde and I’ve just failed to notice?

Yesterday… my father-in-law who lives next door (but within the same fenced acreage as us) called me:
FIL (very quietly): I did something really bad.
Me: What? Huh? What’s wrong?
FIL (after much hemming and hawing): I forgot to close the gate when I left earlier.
Me: *dead shocked silence*
FIL: Are you there?
Me (trying to stay calm): Umm, where’s the Diva horse?
FIL: I don’t know.
Me: *quietly losing my shit* while he sounds like he’s about to cry on the phone


We spent the next hour scouring the ‘neighborhood’ – that being a couple of square miles of woods, woods, more woods, and a tiny actual neighborhood – looking for ANY signs of my mare. Finally, spotting a “sign” (i.e. a pile of crap) that she’d been on a specific road, we turned into the actual neighborhood area and drove up on a Sheriff’s Department SUV with a trailer attached. I asked him if he might be looking for a mare. And THANK DOG, he was.

We finally found her haltered in someone’s yard, playing with a gelding. Turns out, the people who found my horse were the same ones whose dog I’d found last year. Go Figure. The nice Sheriff’s deputy gave her a ride back to the house. My heart stopped hammering in my chest about an hour after I got her back home. And then my father-in-law called to see if I was still speaking to him. Poor guy. He felt awful. But, really, it could have happened to anyone. We got her back unscathed so no harm – no foul.

Today… My alarm didn’t go off. My coffee tasted weird. I ripped a hole down the side of my shorts less than five minutes after I pulled them on. My. Bra. Broke! “It’s all good. I can deal with it,” I told myself. Then my computer gave me a big blue ‘Eff You.’ Luckily it was only temporary or I’d probably be buying a new window (having thrown the offensive hunk of metal through the current one).

I could really use Ms. Patience just now but she’s gallivanting around the woods, too busy for me. Sort of like my best friend, CBoy. He can’t remember how to dial a phone, so enormous is the Busy he’s carrying on his shoulders. The first few months of that, I understood it. Everyone has a busy time. The next few months, I sucked it up. Now? I don’t get it. Seriously. You can’t dial a phone? How about returning MY calls? Like the half hour of listening to him talk computers with Mr. Clean last week was supposed to tide me over for the next few months? Umm, yeah. I don’t think so. We’re All busy, damn it. I’m starting to think that “busy” has nothing to do with it.

Now… I can’t write. I’ve been fighting the writing, hoping to post something substantial for Blogging 4 Books this week. But it’s Not. Working. Out. I don’t have any real experience with the choices of topic provided, and there are THREE of them. I can’t even figure out a way to twist them without making my gray matter feel like a pretzel in the process.

I tried to sit down and work on my WIP… but all I can think about is the one waiting in the wings.

So, you know what? Bring it on. Just give it to me all at once. I can’t stand waiting for the other shoe – or two – to drop.

Okay. Maybe that was too hasty. Could you just tell me what’s next? Maybe leave a note beneath my pillow? A fleeting sign of what’s to come so I can put on my flak jacket and helmet would be nice.

Oh dog… is this karma for going over my shopping budget last weekend? I can’t take it back now. I need the bras!
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