I love hearing a story. I check out audio books at the library all the time to fulfill this love. They captivate me, and I don’t want to do anything else until I get to the end, at which point I start another story, and the whole process starts again. Non-fiction and fiction alike. Historical, classics, westerns, novels, spy, mysterys…ooooooohhhh, mysteries! I have a special weakness for mysteries.
Last night, I worked late into the night remodeling and listening to Agathie Christie. It made the evening and the work pass quickly because I was transfixed to another world. (And, believe me, at 11:00 at night, I needed the work to pass quickly.)
There is a slight downside to my love of mysteries and listening to them all by myself. At night. In a big, creaky, old house. Yeah, I felt like I was ten again when I read Nancy Drew books. I kept hearing things. And when I turned the lights out and crawled in bed, I reverted to that old habit of making sure every limb was safe under the covers, even though it was a little warm. And I hoped I would fall asleep quickly. Which I did and then woke up this morning to continue the story as I got ready. After all, I had to find out who-dun-it!