Stopped at Barnes & Noble after work, where I picked up Bruce Lipton's The Biology of Belief. In the store, I softened the whip of short temper that had been swimming in my pool for the better part of the day. Ah, it's been a tough week, I'm not terribly concerned, but I'm all set with this agitated self. Maybe Bruce will dose me with bliss.
The other day Fred told me he'd been sitting outside after work enjoying the warm weather and heard someone pounding on a door or wall upstairs. In fact, he was more specific: "It had to be Marie because I had talked to Rick a few minutes before as he was walking off somewhere. Plus, I could hear her talking. Her mind must really be going."
It was possible. The last time I saw Marie, which was a couple of years ago, she wasn't exactly lucid. I asked Fred if he thought she had needed help. "I don't think so. It just seemed like she was acting out."
I told him I'd heard someone working up there the day before. "Sounded like Rick was putting down carpet or something", I said. "Yeah, but Rick was out of the house when I heard the pounding", Fred replied.
We left it at that. I'm almost one hundred percent sure it wasn't Marie making the noise. For the last couple of days, there has been a lot of activity upstairs. Sounds like carpeting is being done and by more than a couple of people, which explains the pounding Fred heard while Rick was absent. Fred is a big dummy. I am a super sleuth!
And I'm about to sleuth my way to a hot and satisfying shower. Namaste, champions.
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