Wednesday, April 18, 2007

The martians are coming.

I now believe in alien abductions.

Let me explain. I had been dubious before last week, but now I'm certain that aliens really do come down from outer space at night, probe human brains, and then leave. Sometimes they stay for an extended visit and inhabit human bodies. How else to explain my husband's recent behavior?

Examples:

Last week Pete agreed to buy new furniture and I wasn't even lobbying or hinting for anything. This is the guy who does not willingly spend money on household stuff if there's already perfectly usable stuff there already. No matter how ugly a chair might be, if it still works, we don't need to replace it. Pete has also agreed to replace the lamps in the living room, as well as the rug and curtains. Proof positive that he's not the guy I've been married to for 15 years. Clearly, I'm now living with a Martian or a Klingon.

(Granted, I did agree that he could purchase a flat screen TV, but that reciprocity came after Pete had already suggested the new furniture and I'm pretty sure he didn't have any ulterior motives.)

Pete wants to go shopping with me to look at new furniture.
He has even offered to go with me to Target to look at lamps -- a store he has been in only once in his life and that was just two weeks ago when the Easter Bunny forgot to actually bring home the jelly beans after paying for them and Pete was therefore forced to go to Tar-jay. This alone is proof that aliens are inhabiting his body and plotting the end of the world as we know it.

I have also been given leave to buy a new ceiling fixture for the study (ordered -- thank you eBay!), even though the existing light is less than eight years old and still functions just fine. (Of course, Pete's rationale was that we can't use fluorescent bulbs with the old fixture and that we'll be able to with the new one. Still, I can't believe he's willing to swap out the old fixture...)

Oh, and I just ordered loads of new plants for the gardens and Pete didn't even bat an eyelash when I told him how much I spent and how much more I plan to spend in the coming weeks. No flinching, groaning, deep sighing. Nothing. Yep, clearly an alien inhabitation.

I am very suspicious.

I am forced to choose from the following possibilities:


Pete is
  • having an affair and feeling guilty about it,
  • about to be arrested for dealing drugs and wants to spend his ill-gotten gains while he can,
  • or was abducted by aliens.
Knowing my guy, it's absolutely and totally obvious that I'm sleeping with an alien-inhabited human. (And I guess that probably puts me in trouble with the law since I'm pretty sure that falls under bestiality or some other sex offense.)

I just remembered that in the past few weeks, Pete has also willingly and with no prompting gone to the store and bought new shorts for himself.

No question about it. Aliens are about to take over the planet. Now would be a good time for you to find a bunker to hunker down in and fill it with lots of bottled water, canned goods, toilet paper, and reading material.

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