I really should know better. Last night as I was settling into my bed I had an idea for a short story come to me. It was pretty cool, and as I got my pillow into a comfy position I thought through some of the major plot points and emotional arcs, and decided that this could be a pretty nifty story. The bed was warm and comfortable and my husband was snugggled up close with his arm wrapped around me, and I remember thinking that I really should write it down, or at least jot a note or two. But I was tired, and I didn't really want to leave the warmth of bed and husband to even reach to the nightstand and turn on the light and make some notes. So I simply replayed the story notes in my head a few times, certain that I would remember it in the morning. After all this was not just a passing dream or wisp of thought. I had this thing thought well out.

I should fucking know better. This morning I have absolutely no clue what the story idea was.