Abby's Alley

If fall comes in the form of rain streaks across my window, I’ll welcome it. But if it just brings shorter days, annoying students, and sore throats, never mind! Give me summer or give me death! Too bad I can’t stop the seasons. We’ve got rain. The ants know it. But I’m willing to put up with them if I can listen to the pattering outside. Phil has put up with the ants marvelously well, but only because he imagines the ants taking our poison to their queen and feeding it to their un-hatched babies. We keep the raisins and nuts in Ziplocs in our cupboards. The honey and syrup are in the fridge. That’s the problem with living in a converted laundry room. The ants can’t tell that this is a house. We’ve lived in 336 square feet for a year now, and here are my complaints. -We’re always tracking dirt into the house. -If Phil’s watching clips online, I have to too. -We can’t have more than two people over for dinner. -I’m afraid that an alley mugger will break into our office/

I think I might be writing about this pre-maturely. If this doesn’t work out, I’ve got to blame myself. If it does, God has demonstrated his faithfulness. A little over a month ago I wrote the following conversation in my story between two characters: King Austin and Master Downing. Downing has just returned from a potentially life threatening adventure, which has led to the very best of situations. “How did you know?” Austin started. “Know what?” “Know that any of this was going to happen: that you’d make it back safely, that Noom would choose to fight for us? How’d you know?” Downing shook his head. “I didn’t.” “You didn’t?” Austin stopped pacing. “You mean you just gave yourself up to the thieves without knowing if they’d kill you or not?” “Yes.” This was too much for Austin. It didn’t make any sense. Was Downing just that reckless? “But you could’ve died!” “Yes.” Austin threw his hands up. “Master Downing, you don’t make any sense! I saw you g