My Startling Revelation

So things in the New York tri-state area have been kind of tough since Hurricane Sandy (that's an understatement). You've seen the images on television, store shelves wiped out, long lines at the gas pump, flooded homes, lots of devastation. Not good. My husband is something of a closet fan of Doomsday Preppers and his fear of a Zombie Apocalypse is well-known (to me).

Anyway, a few days after Sandy hit, my very kind and thoughtful husband volunteered to stop at the food store to restock our pet food supply. I graciously accepted and mentioned one or two people food items that might be nice. He returned with a ****load of stuff. Spent waaaaay more than I ever do on the shopping.

Not that I was surprised by that. I don't want to generalize, but I've noticed over the years that many men tend to concentrate on snack foods and cleaners, rather than the makings of real meals. So, in my post-Sandy kitchen I now have gallons and gallons of water (good), winter lager (he surprised me with that ... yum), tons of potato chips, Fritos, pretzels, Doritos, cookies and crackers. Oh yeah. And pepperoni. Lots of pepperoni.

Fortunately, my propensity to overstock especially when there's a sale, means we're still good for regular food, but let me just say ... this hasn't been my best healthy eating week. Between his testosterone-inspired food shopping trip and the advice of the news anchors that we should "hunker down and eat our Halloween candy" (now that's responsible reporting for you), my diet's taken a bit of a hit.

However, today, as I opened a winter lager and sat back with a bowl of chips and dip, I had the startling revelation as to what's going on. That son of a bitch! He thinks the Zombie Apocalypse is imminent and he's fattening me up to slow me down so he can get away!

It goes without saying that it's not a good environment for a relationship when one partner believes the other is out to get them killed by zombies. I mean, he's buying me enough crap to ensure that my dentist will, in fact, be able to take that Caribbean vacation (provided the zombies don't eat him first), and there I am trying to surreptitiously add lard to his portion of the meal in an attempt to even things out, all the while listening for the sound of footsteps so he doesn't see what I'm doing. I'll have to start loosening his clothing soon so he doesn't notice.

For the record, I finally confronted him about his diabolical plan and he laughed ... but he didn't deny it.