Oh my beloveds, forget the turkey, I have something much profounder than splayed drumstricks to share with you. I think only embarassment at my dickheadery (asshattery?) has prevented me from telling you about this earlier.
On Monday afternoon at 15.13 hours, I had an out-of-body experience. I know the exact time because I was busy hardboiling an egg for my Oeuf Mayonnaise (qv) when IT occurred (Forgive the upper case, but this is for me a serious case, deserving of italic upness).
Picture the scene - well, if you have nothing better to do, picture the scene - I am in my bijou kitchen watching a bijou free-range egg (I only eat eggs that emerge from happy hens) trembling in a bijou pan of boiling water when there is a knock at my front door. With only seconds to spare before my egg goes from hard-boiled to cretaceous, I panic. Turn down the heat or answer the knock?
At this very moment, my beloveds, I had my OOB experience. I saw myself, from outside as it were, in my kitchen, dressed appropriately for hard-egg boiling in clogs, sweatpants and a teeshirt announcing the ornithological supremacy of San Diego County, and I realised that I WAS NOT REALLY THERE.
All this talk of parallel universes has unhinged me. The knock on the door was as muted as an organ-grinder's fart, distant and unimportant. I froze. I remember looking at the hard-boiling egg and I remember thinking, who needs them, I am a philosopher, a poet, the heir of Socrates and Dante. In a word, an Old Scrote. What do I need with eggs or knockings at the door?. Etcetera.
Thoughts like this are not healthy.
Apart from anything else, I was hungry.
But at least, when I came back into my body, two things happened. I was able to rescue my bijou egg; and the bugger at the door had given up. Which means that I could proceed to a cracking Oeuf M, and I know that I will receive an ESTIMATED electricity bill, because the poor sap at the door couldn't get into the garage to read the meter.
Well, I THINK that's who it was, but it might have been some quantal bloke come to explain String Theory to me (or Loop Theory if s/he's really on the case). They needn't bother: I have been in and out of parallel universes so much lately, I don't know any more, to coin a phrase, if I am a-Carmen or a-Cohen.
The egg was aces, by the way. Ole!