Strange Things Afoot At The Trailer Park Of The Dammed.

Driven by Deb's most recent post, Husband's car problems, and the deluge afflicting Texas, I was intent on cleansing the Trailer of Doom tonight.

Was the whole place going to be clean, tidy, and ready for the banish/bless double whammy? No. No, it was not. But given everything going to Heck in a hand basket, I thought doing something was far better than doing nothing. I mean, this is a place where no longer having a kitten under the bathroom sink is a major improvement. We have odd standards here.

Five minutes before we started, I found the very first pentacle I've ever owned. On Husband's desk. Where it has never been before. I am very certain it has never been there before because I have not seen it in years and, frankly, thought it was lost.

Freakishness. The Desk does not appear things. It disappears things.

What to do? Wear it? Put it on the bike? In the car? In the house? What to do?

Why, whip out the pendulum and hold it over the choices above and see where it's supposed to be.

It is now tied to the horseshoe over the door. I suspect we have somehow agreed to MOAR WITCHCRAFT. I suspect Protective Guilt Trip Of the Gods. I suspect "Well, I didn't see that coming".

We'll see.

AHS - Coven Gives Me Ideas.

The primary one is that every witch needs a Spaulding. I should put an ad on Craigslist.