Tap. Tap. Tap.
Where is that coming from?
Then again, a faint scratch and one knock. On the door? I think? It was faint, but persistent. I went to look through the stained glass windows of our front doors and saw…nothing?
Opened the door and lying there ghostly pale and covered in a thin film of sweat, was my Hubby.
“Honey, I cut my foot, I’m going to pass out”. Was what he muttered. Oh crap. have you ever seen that episode of Fraser when Niles Crane cuts his finger while ironing?