Several years ago, two days before Christmas, the man sitting across from me at the table — who I thought was My Real Husband (MRH) — said, “Let’s go shopping tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve,” I reply, stating the obvious, while trying not to stare at him.
“Exactly!” he says, his pupils dilating. “Fry’s Electronics is opening at 8:00 a.m. We can be there when they open.”
“But tomorrow is Christmas Eve,” I repeat, wondering who to call for help. “Everyone else will be out shopping. It will be awful.”
“No, it won’t. We’ll be there when they open and be gone before the crowds show up.” He seemed so excited about the idea of shopping on Christmas Eve.
Are you kidding me? Why couldn’t he just drive down to the nearest gas station/convenience store combo like everyone else? I mean, they have t-shirts, gimme caps and koozies. Some of them are even open on Christmas Day, for Christ’s sake!
I’m done with my Christmas shopping by Thanksgiving. I’m also the one who stocks up on non-perishables just before Thanksgiving so that when I do have to go somewhere between Thanksgiving and Christmas, it’s only when in dire need of food and even then I can rush in and out of the grocery store. See? Grocery store. Not retail stores where throngs, crowds, hordes of people actually shop for Christmas presents.
We continued discussing this silly shopping idea and he made some vague reference to the phrase “for better or worse.”
It was then that I decided that this was not My Real Husband, but an alien replacement. A Pod Husband, so to speak. It’s the only logical explanation for him wanting to go shopping on the same day that almost everyone else on the planet will be shopping.
I don’t know how or when the switch was made, or where my real husband was, but there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it.
Fine. I went shopping with My Pod Husband on Christmas Eve.
That was just the beginning.