Mike and Proof

Well, Mike has gotten 2 the part where he got home after his book-signing:

April,

Formerly little sis. Have you ever been to another dimension, where things are similar to your life, but just a little different? Well, I have. I had gotten home from my book-signing at Lilliput’s, which I have been talking about all week, and somehow I stepped into another dimension. It may sound crazy, but hear me out. I went into my house, and right off the bat, I noticed things were different.

For example, you may remember back during the time change from Daylight Savings Time, I may have mentioned my daughter had to the left of her bed, a set of shelves with a flower clock on it. Or perhaps you may remember when I told of my long reminiscence about Gramma Marian with my daughter using photo albums, how that story ended up with my taking my daughter to her room where there was nothing to the left of her bed but a nightstand with a lamp and curtains covering her window. Perhaps you remember how since my son turned 3 years old last November 1 he had gone from sleeping in a crib to sleeping in a bed, as most kids his age do. Perhaps you remember that my son and daughter hadn’t slept in the same room since before you, mom and dad moved out , back when my daughter was in a bed and my son was in a crib in the same room. I know I remembered these things, and it was the differences from that which clued me in.

I got home from my book-signing at Lilliput’s, having to be dropped off by mom, because I discovered midway through the signing, my wife and kids had run off with the car. It was not a problem, because mom lives so close and I could walk the rest of the way from her house (after raiding the refrigerator of course). When I got to my house I found my wife, the lovely Deanna, putting a blanket over my daughter in her bed and she said, “Great signing tonight, Mike. Sorry I had to take the kids home. They were getting tired.” I was on the verge of asking her why she was just then putting a blanket over my daughter when she left Lilliput’s over an hour ago, but then I remembered just how much trouble my wife has handling the kids by herself. She probably spent the whole of the last hour just getting them to sleep, because she was still wearing that unusual shawl-collared sweater where the lowest point of the collar lines up with her right breast.

Then she walked over to the crib in the room to put a blanket over my son. I was about to say, “What is this crib doing here? Doesn’t my son sleep in another room now?” But my lovely Deanna spoke up and said, “It’s going well, isn’t it.” without a question mark in her voice, so I knew she was stating a fact she wanted me to confirm. Well, after the sudden reappearance of the crib I wasn’t sure what was going on; so I said with as much certainty as I could, “I think so. The publicity has helped. We just have to wait now…and see what happens.” Before I saw the crib, I would have said something about being a best-seller and how I had some more book-signings already scheduled; but I had that awful feeling like I had stepped into a whole other universe, and as everyone knows, when you get that feeling, you don’t want to reveal yourself as coming from another dimension.

Then my lovely Deanna came over to me, wrapped her arm around my neck, and started nibbling on my cheek. That confirmed it for me, wifely affection = another dimension where wives are affectionate. This other dimensional Deanna said, “Hey. You’re a good writer. You made the right choice. You don’t have to prove it to me.” I put my arms around her and thought to myself, “First, I hope she can’t read my thought balloons and second, what is she talking about? What choice? Surely she can’t be thinking of my choice to be a writer. I made that decision over a decade ago. Maybe she is talking about my choice to quit working at Portrait Magazine, but that would make no sense, because that’s what she wanted me to do. But then I realized this other-dimensional Deanna might not have approved my leaving Portrait Magazine. After all, when you think about it, my Deanna wanted me to quit my stable employment job and live off my unstable freelance writing money; when most people would think the exact opposite would be want she would want. Then I remembered she said I don’t have to prove it to her. It was confusing. I don’t have to prove what to her? That I’m a good writer? My book was a Critic’s Choice from the Toronto Star and the Hamilton Spectator. Of course I am a good writer. It was in those newspapers and newspapers don’t lie. They have to do fact-checking and things like that. Then I thought, maybe in this other dimension, Michael Patterson was not known to be a good writer and when he decided to write a novel, this other-dimensional Deanna required a proof. But then I thought, if I don’t have to prove it her, then who would need a proof?” As you know formerly little sis, when another dimensional women has her arms around you and your face close to her mouth, you don’t want to stir up any controversy by asking questions out loud. She might grow fangs and chew my face off, or something else horrible like that. You can never tell with other-dimension women. Believe me. So I said, “I know.” That seemed like a safe answer to me and it was.

Then she left the room and I stared at my two dimensional doppelgangers of my children and I realized to whom I would have to prove it, “…I just have to prove it to them.” After all, who else is there who would need a proof? Maybe in this other dimension, Deanna doesn’t make enough money as a pharmacy manager to have her husband be a kept man, like in my dimension.

Well, formerly little sis, I don’t need to tell you what happened next. I didn’t want to create any suspicion, so I went to bed with my other dimensional wife and submitted to all the passionate things she wanted. Then the next morning, I found I had switched back to my normal dimension in my sleep, and everything was back the way I remembered it. My lovely Deanna from my dimension was back, and wearing her flannel nightgown, and everything that goes with that clothing choice. I don’t know why I temporarily moved into another dimension, but I do know that somewhere out there is a Michael Patterson who has to prove to people he is a good writer, and I feel pity for him.

Love,
Michael Patterson

Other dimensions can B v. confusing. There is a whole other dimension that can B found if U climb in2 the central-vac system in yr house, BTW. But U wd know if U'd gone there, cuz U totally hafta climb in.

Woot! Go Leafs! I had so much fun celebr8ing w/U, Jeremy!

Apes