I’m the kind of writer who tends to be totally absorbed in what I’m working on as if on a cloud of inattentiveness to anything else.  This can prove dangerous at times or outright funny. This was especially true when I lived alone in a small housing project while in Jacksonville, Florida. Since no harm was actually done, I laughed at the absurdity. I had just settled in to tackle long overdue writing projects when the phone rang. My neighbor had called to give me a heads up. “Got some bad news to tell you.” I didn’t want to hear…

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