Something like Ferris Beuller, I suppose, but Fergus and I have been have a minor dispute about the direction the story needs to go from here so he's taking a Sunday off.
We're trying to work things out.
Meanwhile, my youngest son turns 24 in three days, I'm scheduled to interview for a job a week from tomorrow and, to top it all off, I found ants in the downstairs bathroom last night.
It's too soon for them. So the question is, why? Do you suppose this harsh winter is harsh on those living underground, as well. Are they seeking shelter? Running from disaster? Is the cold fucking with their heads, too?
Curious minds want to know.
And this will be Fergus' only Sunday off for a while. Once I figure out the next step, the rest is clear.
To me, at least.