Did I mention that I hate house-sitting? I was all discombobulated yesterday and it was raining sheets, so I hoofed it back to my house and enjoyed a nice time writing. Well the getting there was terrible owing to the fact that my car door is just a bit tweaked. I locked my keys in a few weeks ago and the locksmith, who was really very nice and competent, used an inflatable whatchamajigger to open a space in my door to wedge his professional coat hanger in to. He apologized for breaking the "cardinal rule" (which I suppose is not to go in through the driver's side door) but had given it his all on the passenger. As a result, my driver's door doesn't seal and I get annoying drops of rain that enter when it rains. Yay.
One of the downsides to being in a good place creatively is that the ideas continue to knock around in my head, ignoring the do not disturb sign I put up. I've had a fantastic idea about a girl named Rachel who sets out to find out where all the adults have gone. One day a couple of years earlier, all the adults in all the world just vanished while their children slept. With the adults gone, strange things began to happen to the world: things that were imaginary became not-so-imaginary. It's kind of an Urban Fantasy meets Lord of the Flies.
Word of the day: whatchamajigger