Morning after

A night's sleep, a cup of coffee and then I reread what I had written yesterday. Both scenes are good, but I can see why I was disatisfied at the time. The central character isn't taking charge of the action yet, but there's a very good reason for his passivity, and it will all change shortly.

Mindermasts

Writing: 951 new words in a rare weeknight writing session. Finally, the pivotal clue is dropped (ka-thunk!).

Pondering the mystery of suburban life. Sometime in the last couple of weeks three trash cans disappeared from my back yard. Along with four lids. This is where things get strange. I remember dragging the trash cans to the curb a couple weeks back, when they were filled with brush and debris from spring cleaning. I seem to recall bringing the empty cans in from the curb when I got home from work, but it's possible one or more of them bounded away in a gust of wind and I didn't think to count. Having acquired a trash can years ago in this fashion when one appeared on my front lawn and sat there unclaimed, I know that these things happen.

But the disappearing lids are another matter. The lids were in the back yard, so how can they now be missing? They should be right where I left them, but they're not. And yet who would steal these things out of a fenced-in back yard? They are cheap plastic trash cans, hardly the object of neighborly avarice. And surely any urchins bent on mischief could think of far better pranks than stealing three cans and four lids.

Hmm. This has all the hallmarks of a fiendish plot to drive me insane. Next I'll check my closets and find all the left shoes missing...