No hobgoblins stuffed through my door, no squirming bundles of hellish awfulness left on my doorstep. In fact Halloween was easy for a change.
Even Londinium has been great this week thanks to an extended two week half term holiday. I even managed to escape the awful clutches of a storm troop... er traffic warden who gamely smiled in defeat and went off to find some other hapless victim.
It was easy to believe I'd awoken in the twilight zone. Everything has been too easy. Even my two near fatal collision with careless drivers whilst on my motorbike were just that, very near but no impact.
My daughter bringing home yet another stray cat to add to the several thousand we already have, has been more or less painless as it hasn't ventured outside the swamp which is her festering bedroom for three days.
The price of petrol has plummeted to an incredible £1.26 per litre. I don't know what that translates to in old money, but trust me, its a great deal less than just two weeks ago.
The weather has been fine, work has been good, and I've made great strides editing the three novels I was foolish enough to begin at the same time.
So what's wrong you ask. Are you complaining because life's good?
Well, actually, yes. Things never go this well. The glass resolutely empty; my bank balance almost always in the red, my sales generally awful, except for the first glorious week on smashwords when I almost began to believe the Day-of-the-Porsche might be arriving.
Something's going to happen soon. I don't know what it is but I'm not venturing out of the house this weekend until it does.