Call the police! Call the government! Call Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith for all I care; just call someone! And do it quick.
I don't have much time.
I've been put under some bewitching trance by the most gorgeous of alien beings and I have a feeling this enchanting life form has hatched a hostile take over plan to seize control of my perfect little bachelor-pad apartment in the not too distant future.
This is distressing for me because you don't understand how much I love my apartment. I can't believe it took me 29 years to find it.
Through out my day at work, I will literally drift off and fantasize about going home and crashing into the recliner or couch. The recliner is in the perfect place too. It's got a great angle to the television set and it's right next to the window sill - which just happens to be the perfect height and width to serve as a spot to put a drink down without moving at all.
The recliner and couch have gone untouched as of yet, but throughout the course of this year, I've had a few brief encounters with this alien creature and I've started to notice some drastic changes in other areas of my apartment.
Like in the bedroom, for starters. For as long as I can remember, I've always just slept on top of a bed sheet with a blanket over top of me. But suddenly there is a bed sheet on the mattress, a pull-over sheet on top of that, and a comforter on top of that.
It takes me a half hour to get under the covers now.
And the pillows.
Sweet mother, the pillows! There are two large decorative pillows, two regular pillows with brown pillowcases, two regular pillows with these red pillowcases that are so silky my head slides off, and a countless number of little decorative pillows that I'm never sure what to do with.
Do you sleep on them? Or next to them? Or under them? I wouldn't bet against an impending obituary detailing how I was buried alive under an avalanche of bed pillows.
The pillows inevitably wind up on the floor through the night, but being the obsessive-compulsive that I am, I usually wind up getting out of bed to straighten them. Sometimes I even catch myself in the sad realization that my life has been reduced to straightening decorative bed pillows ON THE FLOOR in the middle of the night.
Moving on to the bathroom. A lot of storage containers and shelves have been added to the bathroom and I'm not quite sure what that means either. The shelves and containers are empty now but I'm beginning to think that they wouldn't be there if they weren't going to be needed at some point. I know I don't need them, so I'm a little confused.
You know what, never mind. The less I know about this, the better.
The biggest changes have come to the kitchen. Recently, there has been an astronomical influx of plates and glasses and pots and pans and cookbooks and toasters and coffee makers and utensils that I wouldn't know what to do with if I took a class.
I'm mostly terrified by the flower magnets that now reside on my refrigerator and the recipe box hanging out on one of the counters. Every time I pull one of my delicious microwave dinners out of the freezer, I can almost hear a mocking chuckle coming from that recipe box.
I'm pretty sure I even heard a sarcastic "Enjoy it while it lasts, big boy" the other evening.
I've known other men who have experienced this kind of galactic assault and believe me, I'm trying to resist. I'm trying to fight back. And I'm pretty good about standing my ground and making proclamations when it's just me in the house. But whenever the alluring alien creature beams down for a visit, I don't stand a chance.
This is the most beguiling being I've ever been around. Between its beauty and charms, I often find myself losing focus and falling under its command. I'm always able to snap out of it though when the creature threatens to take down my Killers poster that's hanging in the living room.
That's not happening.
And this must just be a more sophisticated, more intelligent species than we mere, mortal men are used to, because I'm still not sure how it all went down. I found this apartment, I moved everything in, I've paid the rent on it for the last seven months and here I am just handing it over.
On the plus side, over the course of our prolonged negotiations this summer, we've agreed that if we ever have a place with a basement, I can have that to do with what I wish; she will just have the rest of the house - so that works out well for me.
Like I said at the top, I'm under the distinct impression that my time as King of the Castle is running out before an all-out invasion. Next Monday, August 17, has been circled on my calendar for some time now and I believe this might just be the alien's planned day of attack.
Should be interesting.
Wish us luck!