Instinct

As a woman who’s always been more into planning than spur-of-the-moment, I recently put my resolution to remain flexible into play. Several months earlier, hubby and I purchased tickets to a comedy event. Almost daily, we chatted about the upcoming concert. Since the venue is several hours away, we agreed on arriving early and enjoying the sights of the city. No planning in advance, except for purchasing the tickets.

Fast forward to the week of the performance. Nothing that happened in our working week dampened our moods. We were ready for Friday night. Anticipation buoyed us and boosted our energy levels. Two days before to the concert, my closet doors remained closed in the event I became tempted to pull a couple outfits from the racks and ask his opinion on a favorite.

As happens with all good moods, they eventually reach an end point. Conflict delights at barging in on a woman before she’s out of her pajamas. The morning prior to our getaway, I brewed the coffee and turned on the television. The Weather Channel delivered the awful news. A winter storm would sweep into our area overnight. A call of icing doesn’t bother me when I’m watching NHL games. But the notion of driving on slick roadways doesn’t thrill me in the slightest.

Despite the dismal weather prediction, my hubby remained confident all would be fine and we’d no need for alarm. My writing day beckoned and I gladly heeded the call. I played among the plotting sheets on our living room floor and steered my thoughts away from the approaching storm. After about an hour I took a break and enjoyed a mug of green tea while curled up on the couch. The remote control lay nearby on the coffee table, but I resisted picking it up and rechecking the weather. Hubby’s reassurances played in my mind. Before half of the tea was gone, pleasant warmth tracked from my neck to my toes. Warmth I couldn’t attribute to the tea. Something stirred deep inside me. Many link this sensation to their gut, but I don’t. My instinct is settled somewhere else, and I’m not concerned as to its pinpoint location. The fact instinct has served me well in cases where I’m apprehensive sustains my faith in the well-hidden predictor. Instead of sipping, I gulped the rest of my tea and returned to the story plotting. All would be fine. My instinct and hubby were right.

The following morning I awoke earlier than usual, headed for the family den and peeked out the curtain. A glazed front walkway and driveway greeted me. But no chills chased through my body. I tuned into the local forecast and also accessed the online report for our destination city. The temperature was trending upward, and the pink-contrasted portion of the scan was tracking northward on the radar. A direction opposite the one we’d travel.

After a hearty breakfast we hit the highway. From the minute we reached the interstate, our conversation remained upbeat. We reached our destination in good time. Even the brief drizzle of rain didn’t change our mood. Sightseeing. Shopping. Strolling the city streets. Dining at a new restaurant we’ve added to our list of all-time favorites. A spectacular comedic performance ending our day. Though we didn’t arrive home until after three the following morning, we were still laughing and repeating some of the funnier lines from the show.

How many of you have relied on instinct? How accurate has your instinct proven?

Feel the heat in erotic fiction,

Shawna Moore
ROUGHRIDER – Ellora’s Cave
HELLE IN HEELS – Ellora’s Cave
TORMENTED – TBD Ellora’s Cave
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