The Twilight Zone

Is there anybody there...?

I have had an odd few days; strange things keep happening, whether it’s the phone activating itself, or opening the fridge to find the Titanic hitting an iceberg.  Okay, I can explain that last one: the Hub drew a picture of a cruise ship on a lettuce packet for a joke; but the rest of the things are weird.

I told you I accidentally locked the dog in the kitchen.  I’m not now convinced that I did because I was certain I left it ajar, and only took the blame because I was the last person in the kitchen before we went out that day.  I wouldn’t have thought any more of it if it wasn’t for the other strange incidents.  Let me explain:

We came home the other night at 10:20 (the day anyone/anything but me locked the dog in the kitchen), having collected Spud from a party.  At 10:40 I saw the phone light flashing to say it was in use; I checked it but there was no-one on the line.  The phone showed a time elapsed of 34 minutes, which means the call started at 10:06 – when the house was empty. 

I woke up on Sunday morning to find my wristwatch on my bedside table: I wear it in bed and never take it off.  The Hub swears it wasn’t him. 

I found coffee splashes on clean dishes in my cupboard – the Hub is the only one who drinks coffee but he never drinks it inside kitchen cupboards, not being small or agile enough to curl up in them. 

Just as I was beginning to think the Hub was playing tricks on me, I dreamt, one night over the weekend, that we caught a rat and ate it for dinner.  Next morning I woke to the news that some of the I’m A Celebrity contestants were to be prosecuted by the Australian authorities for catching and eating a rat.  Unless the Hub was whispering the story in my ears while I was sleeping, I don’t think he can be blamed for that one. 

And he definitely can’t be blamed for this morning: my Little Brother phoned (not odd in itself; we speak once a week).   I was surprised because I spoke to him on Saturday morning and it’s only Tuesday.  In fact, he was a little off with me that day, and I wondered if he was phoning to make amends.  When I mentioned my surprise, he mentioned his surprise because he swears we haven’t spoken since his birthday, ten days ago.  Yet I distinctly remember Saturday’s conversation. 

I’d like to blame my husband, because that’s what they’re for, but I really can’t.  Tell me, am I demented, stressed, hallucinating, psychic or haunted?  I have always been a bit of a normal Norman and this is freaking me out a little.  It is sterling work by who/whatever is doing it to me.  I can’t see the wood for the forest: please, someone, offer me a ray of light.  Tell me I’m going to wake up back where I belong, on the Enterprise.