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.