Tuesday, January 30, 2007

I can't wait for actual senility to set in!

I've mentioned this before, but Kevin and I have a running joke about starring in our own sitcom called My Idiot Boyfriend because of all the absent-minded, bone-headed stunts he pulls (and I say that with love, truly). The theme song sounds similar to the one from The Patty Duke Show, in case you're wondering.

Well, last night was a new episode. Kevin got home from work about 10:30 and said it had started snowing again on his walk home, and then asked where I had gone that night. Act I of the episode went like this:

Me: "What do you mean? I didn't go anywhere."

Idiot Boyfriend (IB), looking puzzled: "Then why did you park the car out front?"

Me: "I didn't even go outside, much less move the car for no reason."

IB, now looking worried: "I didn't see the car in the garage when I came in through the back yard."

Me: "Kevin! Are you sure you didn't drive to work?"

IB: "No, no, I walked. Hang on, let me go look out front."

Sound of front door opening. Long pause. The front door slams, followed by the sound of IB running down hallway to my office. Act II begins:

IB: "The car's not out front!"

Me: "And you're sure you didn't drive to work?"

IB: "No!"

Me: "You actually looked in the garage when you came home?"

IB, blank stare: "Well . . . I think so. I'll go look again."

Sound of back door opening and IB's feet crunching on the snow down the path to the garage. Long pause, and then the sound of IB running back inside.

IB: "Lisa, the car's NOT IN THE GARAGE!"

Me, mouth hanging open: "Uh . . . "

IB: "I can't believe someone stole it!"

Me: "Should we call the police? Crap, I'm not dressed!"

IB: "The registration's in the car! Do you remember the license plate number?"

Me: "Of course I don't! And you're positive you didn't drive to work?"

Long pause. The clock ticks. The sun rises and sets repeatedly. Spiderwebs grow in the corner of my office. The buildings outside the window change; some are torn down, and new ones go up. Finally, IB's eyes lose their blank look, and comprehension dawns. Act III begins:

IB: "You know what? I did drive to work."

Me: Wordless sputter, accompanied by look of pure rage.

IB, hastily: "I'll run back and get it!"

IB throws on his coat and runs out the back door. I take this opportunity to look up the benefits of gingko biloba on the Internet and consider hiring a home healthcare worker to accompany IB everywhere.