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!

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