When my wife came into the bedroom she give an 'unearthly' scream; she had never seen me without my pyjamas before. She began to laugh - an emotion she hasn't the countenance for - and conjectured that it may have been the work of pranksters who had breached our home during the night.
I don't believe in 'paranormal activity' except when my wife and I attempt sex. How will I sleep tonight? Probably with my eyes closed. I have sprinkled wheat on top of the bed in case the aliens return. I'm frightened they may revert to violence or sexual experimentation if their desire to create crop circles is infringed. Tonight I intend to sleep in an iron stove in the kitchen disguised as burning coal. My wife can sleep under the carpet in the living room if she so desires.
*The synopsis of my new novel is based on a wealthy charmer who paints still life, before life, after life, and blocked sinuses. In the story the protagonist falls in love with his easel. Unfortunately, they break up following an argument as to whether Picasso ended his life bald or without hair.
*Reflections: It's gratifying to discern that a number of 'great' writers' were unable to spell certain words. I'm thinking of William Shakespeare, Mark Twain, Jane Austen, etc., who were unable to spell: iPod; iPad; digital detox; smartphone; gastropub; atom bomb; overseas contingency operations; botox; selfie, twerk, and 'me time'.
I don't believe they missed anything of value, somehow.