No, No, Amylynn . . .

. . . you’re not thinking clearly.  THEY will find you in a tree-house.  Think about it, no matter where you are in your house, under your house, on the side of your house or on top of your house – THEY always find you.  Admit it, you’ve hidden in places in your house where the FBI or McGyver couldn’t find you . . . and yet . . .THEY always do. 

I had no idea you were experiencing the same problem I was today.  Here’s an example of my writing from earlier:

Jerrilyn closed her eyes tightly before she looked at the home pregnancy stick.  No, you cannot go into your brother’s room and kill him.  You can’t because I said so.  She prayed it was positive.  The ketchup is usually on the door, on the second shelf, next to the mustard, unless someone put it away other than me.  She’d made up her mind that having Jace’s child would be a dream come true, a family of her own.  I know it looks like I’m sitting here doing nothing. but I’m writing.  That’s why you hear keys clicking.  You don’t hear keys clicking?  That’s because you’re all too damned loud – now go outside and play!

Forget that tree-house.  I applied on-line with NASA for the space program.  I signed the three of us up, as a team, for the very next year long space shuttle mission.  THEY will never be able to find us in space, I think . . .