Six Strings and a Sketchpad

I have been on leave for four days now...

And although I don’t see anyone else in my flat... I have a feeling I am not alone.

There is someone in my flat... Someone silent... Someone invisible... Following my every move.

I swear I am not crazy!

Let me explain.... Since my Lesotho plans fell through, I’ve been moping at home. I’ve even created a little nest, of sorts, consisting of a nice warm bed with my blankies and laptop and cellphones and Fritos and Flings and Sparkles and phenergan all within reach...

Here’s the thing, though... Every time I make myself a cup of coffee, I come back to my nest. I am cuddled up against the wall. Alert. Watching. Waiting. Waiting for him – or is it her? Or... is it them?!?! – to strike...

Then, just as my laptop has something cute to distract me, I reach over for my pink coffee cup... Only to find it disturbingly light! I nearly break my neck to check... But yes! Damn it, yes! They’ve struck again! My coffee cup is empty!

I can almost hear their diabolical laughter at the silly scene I present as, in slow motion, I check the coffee cup, look around, check the coffee cup again and curse...

I know I only just filled that cup up a little while ago.

Whoever is doing this... Please stop. It really isn’t funny anymore.

And could you please return that last packet of Flings? I know I wasn’t done with it!