Okay, so I woke up this morning with a head like a badger’s rear end, two weeks worth of stubble and a distinctly strange atmosphere between Mrs M and me. The last thing I could remember was a party at which I was persuaded to eat some mushrooms whose purpose was not nutrition, if you know what I mean.
I can recall some incredibly vivid dreams, the content of which revolve around living with a tribe of hunter gatherers, being extremely cold all the time and being ridiculed for being an unsuccessful hunter. I think it culminated in an immensely chaotic gathering round a fire.
What the hell was going on? I get to work and by boss treats me like I’m some kind of idiot. Big Vern, with whom I normally eat on a daily basis, sat in another part of the canteen at lunch, eying me suspiciously; and I have a number of emails demanding to know why I have failed to deliver various promised documents.
Seriously - those were not normal mushrooms.
This morning, when I appeared following my first visit to the bathroom, Mrs M was for some reason keen to inspect the toilet.
“You put the toilet seat down.”
I was still confused, so I kept it neutral. “Yes.”
She offered nothing further, so I tried “And…?”
“No reason.” She seemed distracted, so I left it.
You put the toilet seat down. What’s been going on round here?
To make matters worse, someone appeared to have hijacked my blog in my absence. I discovered this had been posted a couple of weeks back, followed by a number of further entries. I wasn’t as angry as you might expect because it turns out to be pretty creative stuff and clearly in line this blog’s Paleo philosophy – but I immediately changed my user name and password.
Then, at lunchtime I discussed with Mrs M my lost 2 weeks. She was pretty cagey at first, as though she didn’t buy into my theory that I’d had some kind of crazy, protracted mushroom trip; but when I pushed her for an alternative theory, she clammed up.
“So you can’t remember anything?” she wanted to know.
“Some weird dreams. That’s it.”
“And what about your blog?”
Ahhhhhh – so that was it. She thought I was the author of the caveman stuff.
“So you think this was some kind of stunt?”
“No, not at all…” she trailed off. She was staring out of the window. “You were just….very different for a while.”
“Okay – less Jaded. Less cynical. Almost child-like.” She hesitated, then added “..and I’d kind of got used to the stubble.”
I rubbed my clean-shaven chin. Less jaded and less cynical. How do you like that?
Anyway, I think we’re cool now. I’m going to leave the caveman posts where they are, and thanks to whoever hacked in and posted them, but please keep your hands off from now on!
Normal service will be resumed in due course…
Letters from a Caveman