bored, bored, bored

Bored. Home alone.

Stuck on chapter four of the novel ("When Mycroft Met Charlotte" -- no, that's not its real title, just me being silly). She met Mycroft without any trouble; the problem is what to have them do for the rest of the chapter. Hopefully the dam will break soon.

I was much amused by the odd dream I had just before waking up. It was like an alternate universe, in which I'd never met my husband. Sherlock Holmes was a guy I'd known in high school, and we were still friends. I was taking him to our local airport to watch the planes from the observation deck, because he was climbing-the-walls bored, and my mom and sister were teasing me about having a date with him.

"It's not a date...I don't think."