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Santa Maria Sun / Humor

The following article was posted on June 30th, 2015, in the Santa Maria Sun - Volume 16, Issue 17 [ Submit a Story ]
The following articles were printed from Santa Maria Sun [santamariasun.com] - Volume 16, Issue 17

Paranoid delusional

By ROB KRIDER

My wife truly believes that during this very second there are countless nefarious villains lurking around our suburban home just waiting for the perfect opportunity to commit acts of savagery against her. Obviously, this is a completely ridiculous notion for a number of sane reasons, but sanity has nothing to do with my wife’s logic. First of all, nefarious villains choose their targets based on monetary value. To be honest, if anyone kidnapped my wife, instead of leveraging ransom from the Hearst publishing fortune, the kidnappers would inherit my wife’s credit card debt from Kohl’s and Target. Second, our front yard consists of a yellowish-colored dying lawn, which doesn’t provide the sort of cover and hiding places nefarious villains enjoy lurking in. And lastly, we live on the nice side of town with the good school district. Everyone knows nefarious villains only prey on people in the part of town with the lower test scores.


Regardless of these simple truths, none of the above mentioned reasons keep my wife from making sure the front door is locked three separate times before she goes to bed every night. And trust me: Don’t make the mistake of using the front door after she has previously checked to ensure it was locked. That little error in judgment results in the following frustrating conversation. “Did you lock the door after you came in?”

“Yes, Honey, I locked the door.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t hear you lock it.”

“You can’t hear if I locked the door while you’re in our bedroom.”

“Yes I can hear if you locked it from here, and I didn’t hear you lock it.”

“I locked it, Crazy.”

“You should get up and check to make sure it’s locked. Just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“Just in case kidnappers want to come in and take our daughter. You don’t want that on your conscience do you?”

“FINE! I’ll get out of bed, walk across the house and check to see what I already know is a fact: That I locked door!”

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it. I’m just worried about our family’s safety. If you loved me, you would go and check.”

“How much I love you has nothing to do with my memory, and I remember locking the door. But … you know what? I’ll be right back! I’d rather just check it again than have this circular conversation with you for another hour.”

I storm off to verify that yes, the door is locked, just like I said. Before I can come back to tell my wife the shocking revelation that the door was certainly and most definitely locked, she is already sound asleep. That is my goodnight kiss every night, an argument about the stupid front door’s lock.

I’ve hypothesized that her paranoia stems from years of watching too many after school specials during the late ’80s, early ’90s. In those episodes, little Jenny was always being kidnapped or murdered by some sort of serial killer who listened to way too many heavy metal albums. And even though my wife’s name isn’t Jenny, and even though she doesn’t live in an after school special (where there is always a moral lesson to be learned, like heavy metal music is the devil’s dictation), and even though we have great test scores on our side of town, my wife still believes there is something evil outside our house about to come and get her.

My wife’s fears aren’t just based on possibilities of evil from the human world, oh no, she is also worried about the demon world as well. Her demonic hysteria comes from watching way too many paranormal television shows like Supernatural and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Thank you Joss Whedon, I haven’t been able to go to bed without checking the front door lock since 1997.

So to summarize, my wife, whom I love, fears attackers who might have escaped from prison as well as demonic creatures who possibly escaped from another dimension. That is a lot for a protective mother who wants to shield her family from doom to watch out for. Obviously, that front door needs to remain locked (and checked and rechecked thoroughly). I just consider myself lucky she isn’t pouring salt in the doorways to keep away the evil spirits.

My wife is convinced if she doesn’t check those locks, wicked men or creatures will lurk in and commit unimaginable horrors like sniff through her underwear drawer. Yes, she is perversely paranoid, especially for a person who has never been victimized by a strange man or apparition. Regardless of the low crime statistics in our area (no phantoms or outlaw biker gangs have been sighted in our neighborhood since the school board changed the district lines), my wife still prepares for the zombie apocalypse every night before going to bed. This means I still have to verify the door is locked, nightly, or have a 20 minute discussion about it. Obviously it is quicker to just check the lock again.

Not only does my wife believe bad people/things are just waiting for the one single night she forgets to check the front door lock, but she also believes people/things come into her house and constantly steal her stuff. The stuff they steal is always the stuff she simply can’t find.

“Honey, have you seen my hairclip?”

“No, I didn’t realize I was assigned hairclip watch this week.”

“Don’t be a smart ass. I think someone stole it.”

“Really? Someone broke into our home, undetected, walked past the laptop and the big screen TV, and decided to steal your 87-cent turtle shell colored hairclip from Walmart? That seems plausible.”

“Don’t be a jerk. Someone stole it. I can’t find it. Maybe somebody wanted a lock of my hair and is making a Voodoo doll of me. You never know.”

“Actually, I do know. Your hairclip is on your bedside table next to your Chapstick, your license, and everything else you’ve left all over the house and blamed someone for stealing.”

My wife will walk into our bedroom, see all of her “missing” possessions and then proclaim: “Somebody broke into our house and moved my stuff!”

“I agree, Honey. It looks like someone did. And even worse I think they might have a key to our place. And they even have a disturbing name. They call themselves ‘The Housekeepers.’”

Rob’s wife always makes him hit the key fob two times so she can hear the reassuring honk confirming the car is securely locked. Jenny wasn’t that careful one episode, and she was taken. If you like Rob’s storytelling then check out his novel Cadet Blues available on Amazon.com.




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