Chapter Twelve
Myrtle couldn’t sleep that night, which she was certain had to do with Felix. Between his droning on about final expenses, the subject of murder, and Felix’s clear displeasure with Myrtle, she was stuck with insomnia, but good.
She studied the light fixture on the ceiling, thinking for the millionth time that she really needed to change it out. Then she decided if she were coming up with home improvement projects for herself, then she really needed to get out of bed.
Most of the time, doing something very rote and boring would bore her back into the bed and to sleep. But after she’d worked for a few minutes trying to clean the mess out of her dryer (which Puddin conveniently had run out of time to do), she found she was just as awake. She knew she had one more Tomorrow’s
