Painfully Bad Timing

I was down at the yacht club yesterday.  My husband had just come in from racing his death-sled of a sailboat, and we were all sitting around talking about nothing.  The kids (about 10 in all -- only one mine) were happily building sand castles on the beach and catching spider crabs off the dock.  After a few rounds of beer encouragement, the adults (a mixture of friends and family) decided to launch ourselves off the dock in a juvenile debate over who had the best cannonball form.  I was fourth in and had some pretty amazing competition ahead of me.  My body was positioned just right, mere inches from the water when it struck me -- an idea for the ending of a manuscript that has been 3/4 written and plaguing me for the past month.

Ecstatic, relieved, and a little amazed that I had "finally figured it out"  I let go of the tight hold I had on my knees and hit the water.  I surfaced to a roar of laughter, sputtering and in pain from my rather ungraceful slap of skin against the water.  My husband, doing everything he could to suppress his own amusement, kindly reached down and offered me his hand.  He heaved me out, his hand rubbing at the red marks covering my thighs. He wrapped me in a towel and pulled me in, I presumed to whisper something insanely stupid and sarcastic.  He didn't, just looked at me and whispered "you got an idea, don't you?"  I nodded, and he laughed, told be his laptop was in his bag on the club's patio and that I had ten minutes to hammer it out before people started asking questions (see none of our friends or family know that I write).  I did and now have a rather crude outline of an ending sitting on his laptop, just waiting for me to smooth out.

So tell me, where is the most insane place your muse decided to strike?