I think I’m finally in an emotional place where I can talk about this without devolving into hysterics, but I suppose we’ll see.

So last Tuesday, I call the husband from work at about 3:00 in the afternoon, just to check in really. At this time, I get the answering machine. So I call back at 6:00, lunchtime, to see if he’s in, and he is. At this time, I clearly instruct him to double-check the VCR and backup VCR both, knowing that he’s probably been watching soap operas all day since he’s on his biannual mandatory vacation (that he found out about almost 2 full days before it began — gotta love retail). He informs me that by 8:00, go-time, all will be as I left it that morning.

So then I go back to work, get home at 10:30ish, at which time he informs me that he put the wrong tapes back in, and that all but the last five minutes of the Buffy finale recorded properly. He then happily chirps that since he watched it in real-time, he can tell me exactly what happened in that last, crucial and historic five minutes, which he’d be more than happy to do. I honestly thought he was playing a very unfunny joke on me for damn near half an hour. Finally, I realize that no, he really isn’t kidding. So then, only naturally, I kill him, cut him into bite-size pieces, and mix him in with the puppy’s food.

Well, actually, I got on kazaa and downloaded the episode a few hours later, and Dan is still alive and well. But you see where we’d be if not for the miracles of technology.