Word Raccoon woke me up about 1:30 this morning.

“Where. Are. My. Earrings??” She shouted.

She kept me up until after three with her nonsense.

Not only did she accuse me of earring theft, which, I was the one who ordered them, sweet writing wreck, but I was pretty disappointed myself not to know where they are.

She said more.

This morning, I had my finger on the “buy” button for a new set when I decided to hold off. They had to be somewhere. I knew I had worn them on the way to Mackinac Island, so maybe they were in my jacket pocket?

There I found a scarf, a pair of gloves, and a shopping bag. No matter. It’s a many-pocketed garment. I kept frisking it, and it kept saying it knew nothing. IDK what it knows, but it yielded no earrings. Damn.

She has been relentless today, rendering me almost unable to write with her over caffeinated nonsense.

I thought I’d check the purse I brought on the trip. You know, the ridiculously shiny one that my brother basically roasted me over when he saw me carrying it for the first time.

“You can call it tacky,” I said. But my eyebrow was raised so he didn’t dare.

Speaking of my brother, yesterday he discovered his heart, his doggie, was missing, Sheen. I offered to drive around his town, make phone calls, post flyers. That dog is super special to him, and I knew he would be devastated if he didn’t find him. I couldn’t believe this was happening to him on top of us just having lost our mother.

Within an hour, someone had delivered Sheen back to his arms. I wish I had been there to kiss them. That’s happy ending number one, and I’m so delighted for him.

WR harassed me early this morning, nipping at my toes when I said I wanted to sleep, saying it was time to write.

So we write on, WR. (Despite her nonsense, I’m nibbling at my novel very nicely. At least now that my brain has cooled a bit.)

As I was saying…Her rant made me go back to that ridiculous pink bag I had brought on the trip. I thought I had gone through it thoroughly, but Gretchen Rubin says something about check where it was last, twice. So I hunted through it.

You know, don’t you? You know what comes next.

YES, I FOUND THE EARRINGS!!

Word Raccoon jumped up and down so furiously I could barely contain her. She didn’t care that I am wearing a t-shirt and what I will generously call (ugh) Mom jeans (why??), she insisted I put the earrings in this instant.

Looks like I’m the one who gets the Snickers for finding the earrings. But I will share a baby, fragile, poem with you just in case you agree with Word Raccoon and not me.

PolterHeisting

Out of the corner of my eye,

so sly it’s nearly unregistrable

except for a signal

just for me;

I feel, I see.

The birb flies

Closer,

But not too closely.

(Not close enough for me.)

It’s a haunting.

My attention

flies with you

for a moment

with every

passing.

(Not that I’m mad about it.)

I feel circled

yet protected,

inspected.

Some hauntings steal peace

but the birb flutters through me,

brings…so many unnamable things.

Not that I can’t take more

electricity. 

P.S. Fly back by and I’ll add the “ly” onto sly.