Perhaps I shouldn’t say anything. Perhaps this is far bigger than just the wife. Perhaps this is worldwide… it’s spread… it can’t be contained…
But, I’ll say it anyway.
Vicky’s been doing a great job with her physical trainer. Just great. She’s stuck with it. I’m really proud of her.
I wish I could say it stops there.
But then, she’s recently gotten really good about eating healthy lunches. Really good. I’m… proud of her.
And then, this woman started thinking of healthy things we could eat at dinner. At dinner. The other night, when we were going to have chicken burgers, she told me that “chicken burgers” means that she has one and I have one. One and one equal two… plural… burgers…
Yesterday, when I told her I was going to make angel hair pasta in a tomato and basil sauce, and I might throw some shrimp in it, and get some crusty bread, and open a bottle of wine, she said, “I’m going to eat a big bowl of vegetables so I don’t fill up on pasta.”
And then, I realized.
This wasn’t Vicky. It looked like her. It sounded like her.
It was not her. She was replaced. Something has taken my wife.
… well, whatever she is, I hope she can make pancakes…