The mind of a mystery writer can be a scary thing. Take, for example, this pit.
This past weekend, we had a very, very, very old in-ground pool pulled out of our backyard. This pool dates back decades before we bought the place. The liner alone was at least 25 years old. So…
imagine where the mind of a mystery writer goes as the little skid steerer yanks out the side walls. For all I know, bones could tumble from the backfill, along with the sand; a dead body could float up from the miry bottom. <shudder>
If that wasn’t bad enough, the latent-mafia side of my mind is thinking, hmm, good place to get rid of some bodies before this gets filled in.
Where do you advertise that kind of service? On Kijiji?
Yup, I warned you it was scary where my mind goes. I’m thinking that I definitely need a vacation. A romantic vacation to nurture the romance side of my novel-plotting mind.
That way I won’t have to know what gets buried under the two or three dump truckloads of dirt. 😕
Your Turn: What did you do this past weekend? 😎