Work kept me busy into the wee hours, a welcome distraction. I'd unplugged the phone, letting the message service take my calls after it rang incessantly starting about two seconds after I got back from the parade. But I really needed to do some damage control and, as I sighed over the maxed-out list that clogged my phone's inbox, not to mention the email flood that washed away any chance I had to sleep in the next several hours, I let myself become absorbed in running Petunia's again.
Speaking of my place's namesake, she curled up next to me on the couch in my living room downstairs, snoring as I settled my laptop on my legs, propped my feet on the coffee table, and sorted through all the pending messages burdening my chugging computer with their demands.
One would think murder would be
