This happened just today. My wife and I took the kids to a play centre. It wasn’t too far away, but far enough to have to drive. We get there, get in, get a table, and the kids run off to play, the usual.
It’s a place that serves food, too. Nothing fancy. Pizzas, sandwiches, chicken nuggets for the kids. We had been there an hour when our food arrived – kids had the nuggets, wife had the bacon sandwich, and I had the pepperoni pizza. The kids were up in the big play structure, lost somewhere in the soft play. So, I went in to get them so they can eat.
I ended up climbing up into the second level of the structure, and saw the kids on the other side. I called but they didn’t hear me – way too busy laughing and having fun. I climbed across one of thos netting floors with the foam stepping pads, when it happened. My foot tangled in the net and I fell forward. Normally, the metal frame of the structure is covered by big soft foam, couldn’t hurt yourself if you tried. But, part of the foam had been torn away and was hanging off, exposing the metal scaffolding inside – which is exactly where I hit my head. And Jesus H Christ, I hit it hard. So hard that it sent a pain down my neck and right into my lower back. That pain is still there now. The while structure shook, and I swear I heard my wife call out asking if I was OK and had I hurt myself.
I was dazed for a moment, but was quickly back on my feet and grabbed the kids. I turned around and my wife was looking through the entrance up to me. I was a little embarrassed so just wanted to get the kids back to the table. When I sat back down I told my wife I was fine, a pain in my neck and back but at least I wasn’t bleeding.
She looked at me and shrugged. “O…k?” She said and looked at me confused. “Why would you be bleeding?” “From where I fell” “Oh, I didn’t realise.”
I know she had seen me fall, but maybe she was just sparing me some embarrassment. I noticed that my pizza had gone, and I asked my wife where it was. She looked at me confused again and pushed a ham sandwich toward me. I laughed and said, “no, seriously, where’d the pizza go?” “You ordered the sandwich.” “No, seriously,” I said, “The girl brought my pizza a minute ago. Where is it?” “You ordered the sandwich.” I can’t stand when people don’t believe me, so I whipped out the receipt and sure enough, I’d ordered the sandwich. It didn’t make any sense to me, but I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I just ate the damn sandwich.
By the end of the session, we gathered up the kiddos and headed back to the car. It wasn’t until we got home and made it to the front door, when I turned to lock the car with the remote locking, that I noticed something a little strange. My license plate was perfect, except for one letter. There was an S instead of an A at the end of it. Now, I KNOW my license plate. I’ve had the car for five years, and only recently sorted new insurance, and had to enter around 40 times for different quotes. THIS WAS NOT MY DAMN LICENSE PLATE. But, it was definitely my car. It even had the little round dent in the wing where it got pinged by a golf ball a week after I got it.
Then in the house, the hallway walls were painted grey. But, no. I papered those walls with blue wallpaper a year ago and hadn’t touched them since. There’s photographs on the wall, taken in the same place, same angle, but we’re in different poses, like the photograph was taken a few seconds later than it had been before.
This stuff started to drive me mad, until I saw the door.
At the top of my landing is the bathroom, and next to it is a blank stretch of wall, or at least there was this morning. Now, there’s a goddamn door there.
I opened it. The damn thing squeaked on its hinges, and inside were several shelves filled with towels and sheets.
We’ve NEVER had a linen cupboard. Never.
I closed the door and opened it again. Still there. Nothing changed.
My wife came upstairs and asked why I kept opening the door all of the time, and could I stop because the squeaking bugs the hell out if her. And also, when was I going to oil the hinges like a I promised last week.
I shrugged it off and told her I’d do it on the weekend. She sighed and complained that I alway put everything off until the weekend and then the weekend comes and I never get around to it. It actually got a little heated and I finally said “Fine, I’ll do it straight away.”
I went down to the utility room and got a can of WD40 and as I was heading back through the kitchen, my wife was in there making tea, and she eyed the can in my hand and asked innocently what I was up to.
“Fixing the damn door for you.” She laughed and said “Which door?” “The one at the top of the landing,” I said. She looked at me blankly. “Next to the bathroom.” She laughed. “Nice try,” she said. “I think I know my own house.”
I shook my head and headed up the stairs. And the goddamn door was gone.
At this point I’m losing my mind. I’m starting to worry that I’ve given myself brain damage or something. After panicking a little, I decide to stow the WD 40 in the bathroom cabinet just in case I need to sort any of the other definitely existing doors. I take a moment to check out the top of my head in the mirror. Definitely no bruising or anything.
And then I head back out onto the landing. And that’s when I hear it. The squeaking of the hinges. I turn to my left and there’s my wife, getting towels out of the cupboard at the top of the stairs that definitely should not exist.
What the hell is happening to me?
