Incriminating Evidence of Fiction
I thought my last post had some humor to it, but some thought it was sad. (I think that says something about my state of mind here lately. More on that in Sunday’s post ) Today, I offer you a cotton candy post to start out the weekend (it’s light and fluffy and has no brain nutritional value whatsoever. Oh, there are no calories, either.)
The other night, I was writing a blog post when my husband approached me. He held his smart phone out and said he noticed something earlier that day. Of course I had no idea what he was talking about, so I stopped typing and looked at his phone while he demonstrated what he did.
He pulled up a list of the last three internet search phrases. All searches that I did. On my phone. I have no idea how they showed up in his browse history. Anyway, he wanted to know why I searched “marriage counseling exercises.”
I laughed. Not the response he expected, apparently. He lobbed back his defensive response of, “well, if we’re having problems, don’t you think you should talk to me?” I laughed harder. When I could pull myself together, I explained that the search was for a story I posted earlier this week (Chameleon). I read him part of the story, including the line with the ‘homework’ assignment for the couple. (I skipped the ending, lest he think life imitates art )
Thankfully, this eased his concern and he walked away satisfied that our relationship is okay.
I said a little prayer that he didn’t see some of the other questionable search terms I’ve done in the name of fiction:
”Deadly odorless household chemicals”
“Hollow tip bullets”
“How long does it take to die from strangulation”
“Restraining order Arizona law”
“Will a .22 revolver kill”
For all I know, I could be under surveillance by the local police department at this very moment. Be careful what you search for, because it just might find you