Don't be overwhelmed on my account, sweetie - I always factor in the fact that real life time constraints are going to hit half my beta readers, and I got feedback from about half the people who asked for it.

And the half was good solid feedback, and it worked.

No guilt, Kristin, please. You're busy molding young minds--no better occupation! Plus, you have your own opus.

Susan, I'm pretty much detail girl myself. I'm pretty good at the microscopic, but the big picture isn't my strong suit, either. Actually, that maps pretty well onto my physical vision, as I have very sharp sight up close, but past the end of my arm everything's just a big multicolor blur.

From the depths of the World's Worst Cold, I bring you this week's drabble topic!

Drabble #22 (bells) is closed.

Drabble #23 comes from Connie: under the bed. Make with the drabbles!

Drabble

Slow Sunday. Cleaning the bedroom. Go into Indiana Jones mode, take a deep breath, hang my head over the edge of the bed and look underneath.

Missing shoe, good. Library book so overdue it'll be cheaper to pay to replace it. Empty diet Coke bottle. Plural. Socks.

Reach underneath and feel around. Should have gotten the flashlight, but then I'd see the junk.

Dust bunnies. Dust puppies. Dust pandas.

Fuzzy. Oh, god, not a plate ...

Fuzzy and sharp? Twin green glints catch the light.

"Dammit ... Cat, get out of there."

Shadow slithers out and sneezes accusingly at me.

Shadow slithers out and sneezes accusingly at me.

Connie, I love that.

Also, thank you everyone for the reassurance.

Deb, book-related post in F2F thread for you.

Nevermind.

Great topic! Haven't been online since yesterday and am busy, is all.

Four Footed Laundry Thief

I find them under our bed: size five, lacy, high-cut. Definitely not mine.

For the next two days, the questions circulate through my system like liquid arsenic. Who is she? How he could he do this to me? Should I confront him? They aren't his estranged wife's - she's back in Surrey. Who...?

On the third day, over breakfast, I take a breath and prepare to speak. I'm forestalled by a knock on the door. It's our neighbour, annoyed, amused, embarrassed. She's holding Tekla, our Siamese.

Dangling from Tekla's mouth is a very pretty bra, fresh off the neighbour's line.

Oh, deb, that's hilarious. True story?

Yep. True story.

Our neighbour's clothesline ran about a foot from her fence. Tekla apparently used to stroll along the edge of the fence and either jump into the tree at one end, or else explore the clothesline. We didn't know she'd got into the habit of stealing small items, though.

I was really glad I hadn't got the chance to rip N a new one.