INTERLUDE - April First in Chateau Stevie

I roused myself this morning at the urging of my alarm to see the sun shining brightly through windows inexplicably not made light-proof with oaktag and tinfoil.

I checked my watch and the date was April first, not the second. The time was 7 am. The alarm clock agreed. This was looking bad.

I donned my glasses, and instead of the expected fog of vaseline-coated lenses or the blur of some prescription long-outgrown the world sprang into sharp relief. I let out my customary whimper at seeing clearly all I could survey and carefully pulled away the bedsheets, but they proved not to be stapled to the mattress. I wiggled my toes, which for some ungodly reason had not been superglued together.

A sudden suspicion thrust into Mr Brain and I leapt out of bed to run to the bathroom mirror to survey the cosmetic damage, simultaneously running my hands over my face and head hair to see where I had been artistically relieved of hirsute coveration, then yelled a curse at the fiendish distraction and danced around madly trying to avoid the carpet of glue traps - that weren't laid out carefully for my unsuspecting feet.

Carefully testing the door handle for electricity I exited the bedroom without encountering a sheet of syrup-coated plastic wrap stretched across the frame. I entered the bathroom with the same manic caution I expect SWAT teams entering crack houses employ, and tested the fixtures and fittings for improvised booby traps.

Nothing.

I showered without the hot water being shut down, dressed in clothes that had not been creatively re-hemmed, re-buttoned , re-sleeved or fitted with controversial heart-shaped cut-outs. By the time I was fully dressed I was on a hair-trigger, my awesome danger senses screaming like Mrs Stevie in the presence of spiders¹.

I transited the living room at high speed lest there be an ambush of some sort in the offing, grabbed my bag - THE BAG! Stupid stupid stupid! Laughing maniacally at this near-miss I emptied the contents onto the floor.

By the time I had repacked the harmless contents² I was late for work, but that was my own doing, not some nefarious trap set by others.

I made tea using a sealed Keurig cup (which makes acceptable tea and ensures that the tea hasn't been adulterated with senecot powder) and left for work.

My car tires were not flat and the Steviemobile fired up first time so I was not required to open the hood and thereby expose myself to some remotely-triggered ambush from the engine compartment. As I drove down the road I heard no "exhaust pipe whistle" in operation, nor did I see a rapidly inflating condom in my rear-view mirror. I almost hit a lamp-post but that was due to all the checking I was doing instead of looking where I was going so that didn't count.

I missed whatever it was the family have set up for me. I am currently sitting on a Long Island Rail Road train wondering when the shoe will drop.

I feel like Gene Hackman in that movie where he ends up pulling his beautiful apartment to pieces to find the surveillance devices he knows are there but cannot find.

1. Which reminded me that I had completely forgotten the "special surprise" I was planning for her this morning↑
2. Unless you count the Pocket Handbook I keep in there which has much in it to suggest mischief of the over-engineered sort↑