I've been a bad, bad blogger. I've been neglecting my writing duties for far too long...but what can I say? I've been busy. Sorry. I'll make up for it with today's post. Two weeks ago I received a phone call from a young woman who was a few days past her due date. She came for a labor induction, and several hours later, BOOM! Baby. Labor was less than two hours, and it was her first! So, all of you pregnant ladies out there, if you want a natural alternative to labor-inducing drugs (which I have not experienced myself, but have heard are very, very painful), you might want to turn to an acupuncturist first.

And now on to a slightly stranger topic....

This has nothing to do with acupuncture, but those of you up for a weird story will enjoy it. I've spent the last few weeks looking for a new apartment. One of the places that I set up an appointment to see was in an absolutely perfect location, had a fireplace and washer/dryer, and several other amenities that I found very attractive.

I had set up the visit through a realtor, who told me nothing about the place. The night before my appointment, I tossed and turned, which is very unusual for me. I normally sleep like a rock. In the midst of this broken sleep, I had a dream. In this dream, I kept finding lined notebook paper scattered around my house. Every time I opened one of the folded sheets, it said the same thing: "Don't trust Mr. M------" (I'm leaving out the name here, for reasons you will learn shortly.) Over and over, the same thing kept happening; I would come across a folded sheet of notebook paper, and it would say "Don't trust Mr. M-----". A pretty boring, repetitive dream...but sort of disturbing, nonetheless.

Fast forward to the next morning. I pulled into the driveway of the apartment and froze. That name, the same name in my dream, was written on the door. Now, bear in mind, I had NO WAY of knowing the name of these people, since I was going through a realtor. I had also never seen this house in my life.

The realtor met me in front of the house, and we walked in together. I instantly hated the place. It gave me the heebies. I felt my skin crawling as she showed me around. As I explored the bedroom, I heard a crash. I ran into the main room to see the realtor lying on the floor. She had tripped and fallen down some stairs. She was a little banged up, but not seriously injured.

About two minutes later, I tripped and almost fell, over seemingly nothing. I managed to catch myself and hang on to the wall, though.

Needless to say, I did not take the apartment. Between the dream, the cold ickies running down my back, and the demonic presence trying to push us down the stairs, I was all set.

So there you go: a ghost story and a tale of the wonders of birth, all in one blog. Hopefully I've made up for my blogging neglect.