What if you lost six hours?

I have a morning routine I follow which begins with getting up at the fairly reasonable hour of 7:30AM, coffee, blogging, and then writing for a half hour before I take Jonah out for a walk, shower, and head off to work at 10AM. Last week I had just come back from my walk and was in  the kitchen drinking water when I noticed the time - which should've said somewhere around 9:30AM. Instead, the clock said 4:10PM.

Now I knew that wasn't right since I'd just gotten up and it was definitely morning outside, but I did go into the other room and check another clock, just to be sure. Because if the kitchen clock was right, then I'd lost over six hours of my day with no recollection of where I was, what I'd been doing.

This of course sparked the idea, what if that really happened? What would you do to try and find out how you lost six hours? Probably check your phone for messages, right? I mean, I'm sure my boss would've called or texted to find out why I didn't show up at work. Maybe go outside and look at the car, see if the gas gauge was different, which would tell me I might've used the car. If I was really desperate to know I might try hypnosis, although I tried that before it it didn't work. Or maybe a doctor to see see of anything was physically wrong. Then...I don't know...maybe freak out a little?

Anyway. The kitchen clock was wrong and I was right on schedule, but I couldn't help wonder, how would that play out?

What would you do if you discovered you lost six hours?

Happily ever after ~

What if the reason writers like to write happy endings is because in reality, unbeknownst to them, they are actually writing about their other lives, the other threads upon which their soul (that infinite reservoir of memory) dances. Parallel universes. Infinite life. Which means that somewhere I am Eleanor in Mexico and it's 1848, or I am Dara on AlNair, Katherine in Tombstone, Lucy on the throne, Nineve in search of her brother, Arlen trying to live up to a memory, Gwynne trying to survive, or Lyra and Phaedra, sisters...

Maybe that's my reluctance in writing the stories that don't end well; I don't want to end up there - except that they're in my mind, those bad endings, haunting me. And I suspect if I have a soul it knows (though it seldom chooses to tread along those dark paths), that it is these lives that will teach the most. Is it any wonder Evolution is a long process?

just a thought. honestly, I have no idea how it all works.

speaking of cats

a friend of mine once posed this: what if we all had tails? Would we keep them hidden beneath our clothes and only reveal them for our lovers? Or would we wear them proudly and dress them in the latest fashion? What would your tail look like?

what if...

...you were upstairs in your pajamas and someone came to the door. Your son, who is dressed, answers and you look out the open window and see a fireman on your porch below. You hear him ask if any yelling was heard, say that there was a report of a car off the road and sounds of distress. Your son says he heard yelling earlier but that it did not sound ‘distressed.’ He did not see a car off the road or anything else unusual. The fireman leaves and you see him walk down the drive toward the road.


And you wonder. Did something happen? Or nothing at all. And if something did happen, what was it?