I've decided my mom isn't done with me yet. Ever since she passed away in December, I've sort of tinkered with the thought that maybe....just maybe....she's haunting me. Today, I reached definitive proof.
I received a call a few minutes ago from my publisher. It turns out that the contracts I sent to them were not only not signed (hunh?) but also that I'd sent a duplicate set with a different book title, et cetera on it.
Allow me to state for the record that I have consumed no hallucinogens in a very, very long time. That being said, what in the hell? Granted, occasionally I might *forget* to record a check in my checkbook, but forget to sign a book contract? For a two-book deal?
Not bloody likely.
Also, the alternate title for the book was something I'd never even considered, so how in the heck did it end up on the contract?
Pretty freaking weird.
A few other things have happened that lead me to this conclusion as well. Yesterday, after the auction, I sat outside with a friend while we smoked and there was a sudden, loud crack. No reason, just a crack. A painting I brought home from my mother's estate has fallen off the wall four times in the last couple of weeks, and her wedding picture keeps turning up in different places on my desk. So, I'm reasonably convinced that mom has decided to haunt my ass -- thanks so much, mom.
NOW CUT IT OUT!
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