Before I start I want to say stealing is wrong.

So, when I say I stole the featured image here you know I’m stealing it. Every year my writing buddy and I go on a retreat to write. She’s much better at her social media stuff and blogging than I am. I couldn’t even get enough enthusiasm to prepare an image, so maybe I’m in the wrong business – I found stealing this image from her blog about our retreat rather easy. She may well divorce me, as her writing bud, but since good ones are hard to find I should be safe.

I do have one redeeming feature here – and that’s my ability to share my idiocy. While she shared our wonderful experience and talks of productivity, I’m sharing the mystery of the missing plug. Not one for writing mysteries I think I owe it to her to do so.

The plug mystery.

I went to do the dishes one morning but noticed the kitchen plug missing. It was a dual sink so no real dramas to use the other plug but as I was doing the dishes I remembered I thought I heard someone in the cottage after I went to bed the previous night. My imagination in full swing, as most writers are want to do, I thought maybe the hosts had snuck in and stole the plug. Their reasons? Someone in another cottage lost theirs. Brilliant. When my writing bud came in a little later I asked if she’d seen the plug and told her my theory of the owner’s sneaking in but not the why, which sounded far sillier said out loud. She, generously, reminded me that I’d had owners of houses come in uninvited, to rented properties, in the past. So, it wasn’t surprising that I thought our hosts had snuck in.

Then I realized that I may have knocked off some food from the plug and dropped it in the garbage. Snap, she was thinking the same thing. I checked the garbage bin as my bud checked the old food scrap bin. Yep. There it was. Fab mystery solved. A few minutes later we sat down to write and she asks, “Why would they sneak in to steal the plug?” Er…. I tried to brush it off that I’d been spooked the night before. The more time I spent justifying the more it sounded silly. And my final justification was, “It’s not like it’s one of those cheap plastic plugs, those things are expensive.” (not knowing how much they cost but heck, they are metal with something you have to pressed down to lock into the sink bit – yeah, I’m no sink specialist despite my years of doing dishes).

It was confirmed, I’m not a mystery writer, nor do I operate well in the morning (after spooking myself the previous night that people were breaking in to steal our stories).

That’s it.

Stolen from the http://www.theflowofink.com/