TBT: It's raining hallucinations 

“Those turtles are wearing earrings,’’ Martin announced yesterday while pointing at the coffee table.

I looked over because I know the one time I don’t there will be turtles wearing earrings and I will miss it.

They weren’t there.

Same for the strange man who was sitting in Martin's favorite chair in his Mancave. Had the nerve to be watching Martin's TV.

I looked. He wasn’t there, either.

Yesterday was a fairly typical day in our house, but hallucinations seemed to take front and center. They were everywhere. I hate hallucinations but I really hate when they come on Monday. It’s the first day of the week, my busiest day of the week, a day when I just don’t have time for y’all. But come you did.

But then there was the other typical stuff.

• At one point Martin was in the house wearing three jackets—two fleecies and a rain jacket designed for hiking up Mount Washington during inclement weather—on top of two tee-shirts. He was also wearing shorts, a black sock and a gray sock and a hat. This might be northern New Hampshire, but it still gets hot in late June.  After intense negotiations, he removed a fleecy and the raincoat. 

• While I was working upstairs, I heard an unfamiliar sound coming from downstairs. I hate unfamiliar sounds coming from downstairs. I looked on my iPad at the camera that monitors him, but still could not see what Martin was doing. All I could see was that a pair of jeans was involved on the kitchen counter. I went downstairs and discovered that he was attempting to cut a pair of 38-inch long pants with a pair of scissors that barely cut paper. The result was a raggedy pair of hot pants that Huggy Bear’s girls would consider inappropriate.

• The wind was blowing and I noticed the picnic table umbrella on the second-floor balcony needed to be closed. One thing led to another and I forgot. A few hours later I looked out and noticed the patio was brighter than usual. Huh. The umbrella was gone. I went downstairs and retrieved it, walked through the living room carrying a 10-foot umbrella and Martin asked, “Is it raining?”

Around mid-afternoon Martin called me on the intercom and said a strange man was downstairs with him. I switched the camera screen to “Downstairs’’ and saw no strange man.

“Send him up to me. I’ll talk to him,’’ I said.

I watched on the camera as Martin walked up the stairs. Rounding the corner to my office was Martin and our dog in front of him and presumably The Man in front of them.

“Thanks,” I said. “You go back downstairs and Fergus and I will deal with this.’’ My voice was stern. Martin gave The Man a look that said, “You’re in trouble now, buddy.’’

About 30 minutes later I came downstairs to make supper. Before Martin could say anything, I announced, “He’s gone.”

“How?” he asked. “He didn’t come down the stairs.’’

“He left through the window.”

Terror took over Martin's face. My office is on the third floor, but I quickly recovered. This isn’t my first hallucinatory rodeo.

“He jumped down on the rhododendron which cushioned his fall. He was fine.’’

“Good,’’ Martin said.

Ten minutes later…

“That woman on the balcony wants to talk to you.’’

“Do you want me to talk to her or do you want me to finish making dinner?” I asked.

He thought about it for a few seconds. I was making his favorite: shrimp and rice. He said, “Dinner.’’

You gotta know your audience.