2017.11.21

I'm living in a horror movie.

Specifically, Invasion of the Body Snatchers - the '70s version.

I made MW mad this weekend and she screamed at me. No words, no gestures; just screaming. Just opened her mouth and - AAAAAAHHHH! - screaming. Like the body snatchers. Eyes popped, mouth a perfect circle - AAAAHHHH!

The only thing missing was the accusatory finger. That and a mustache and she could've been Donald Sutherland.

What brought it on? I gave the dog a piece of cucumber. Apparently, we're not supposed to give the dog ANY human food. Thus the rage-scream.

After it was over, MW stood just as confused and bewildered as I. Did she really act like that? She couldn't reconcile the reaction to the deed and started trying to correct it. So now we have a Scream Calendar tacked to the wall. For every day she doesn't scream, she gets a check mark on that square. Actually, two checks. One in the morning; one at night.

Yes. A Scream Calendar. Tacked to the wall. Tell me I'm not in a horror movie.

***

Worse than that, MW's leg has been "buckling" a lot. I tell her it's normal and happens to everybody, but she's not buying it. At one point she actually put hands-on-hips, rolled her eyes, and accused me of treating her like she was stupid.

"Are you kidding," she insisted. "It has to be Huntington's, right?"

Back to the wall; where do you fall?

I took a moment, centered myself, and countered. "Why are you even asking when you don't really want to know?"

Talk about thin ice!

But - ha! - it worked. She considered for a moment and then, basically, agreed. "I want to work for at least another 20 years," she said.

Because that's what she thinks she has left. Twenty years. She's sure she'll be in her late 60s, maybe even 70s before it "hits".

Christ. See? All that's missing is a John Carpenter soundtrack.