|My writing view in the daytime|
It was late night and the house was silent. I was working away--letting my fingers tap, tap the words out in Scrivener as my scene unfolded. There's a certain "feeling" that I experience at night. A feeling of being watched. It's as if someone is standing behind me, pressing against my personal space. I tune it out for the most part but sometimes, that's easier said than done. There are times things get knocked off the kitchen counters while I'm working. I tune that out too. I know it's not the cats because they settle down as soon as everyone goes to bed. Sushi-Ball goes upstairs, Sinbad holds down the couch, and Clover settles in my papasan chair. They have their routines, after all.
But so does my house ghost.
This particular night, it seemed to be more restless than usual. I turned to check behind me twice, which made me feel silly because there's never anyone there. Several times, there were disturbances in the kitchen. Nothing crazy like plates or glasses flying off the shelves, but small things. A pencil rolled off the counter and fell to the floor. A flicker of movement in the corner of my peripheral stopped my train of thought. A stack of papers on the counter shifted, followed by several pages drifting to the floor. My betta fish tank light went out with a loud pop. Moments later, the utensils my kiddos were supposed to set in the dishwasher, clinked in the sink. I went to check and the spoons lay flat, all lined in a row. I put them in the dishwasher and lo and behold, the dishwasher turned itself on as soon as I sat to write again.
Oh yes, writing. That thing I do. It's a wonder I get anything done around here.