Every once in awhile I have a bout of insomnia. Last night was one of those times. It didn’t help that the tapping I kept hearing outside my window reminded me of those creepy urban legends (or contemporary folktales, as we called them in my BYU folklore class) my friends used to tell me. You know, like the stories where the babysitter goes outside to check on a tapping noise and never comes back and the kids hear the tapping all night but don’t go outside to check on her because they’re scared, but then in the morning they go outside and see the dead babysitter hanging from a tree, her dangling foot tapping against the window. (Yes, urban legends are best told in run-on sentences). That sort of thing.
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