He told me the panties belonged to a stripper. I guess that's supposed to make me feel better. It doesn't. They weren't mine. And while I guess it's possible that they're ... his, I don't think that's it.

I mean, they weren't exactly... Tide clean, you know? And he doesn't wear that brand of perfume. Anyway, if they were his, he would have just told me that. Jesus, like that's the kinkiest thing I would have known about him?

So ... I mean, you find women's underwear in your husband's gym bag while looking for car keys. This freakin' black thong. God. How unoriginal. He doesn't even like thongs.

Anyway.

You find this thing, and it's definitely not yours, and so you're supposed to think ... what? That, I don't know, it's just ... some stripper's?

"Yeah I got it at that bachelor party."

"But I was with you at that bachelor party. I never saw any dancer giving you her thong."

"It happened while you were with Andy. She slipped it in my pocket. I barely noticed."

"Front or back?"

"What?"

"Pocket."

"Oh, uh ... I don't ... front."

"Front? ... Front? Really? You're gonna go with front? And claim that you barely noticed?"

Shrug.

See what I mean? Doesn't add up.

Anyway. Shit. Not a good week to quit smoking.

Then the other day he tells me about this conversation he had with one of his fictional characters. What the fuck? He says he was just shooting the shit with this guy. Chatting on the front porch. And so I'm like, ha, ha and I'm waiting for the punch line and I'm looking at him like you're kidding, right? But he's not. He's dead serious. And he's telling me he knows the guy was real because Honey saw him, too. She actually ran over to him at the fence. And so he says they talked about yard stuff and storms and dead things. And they drank beers. And he shows me how yesterday he had five beers in the fridge and now he's got three.

Like that proves anything. Jesus Christ.

Anyway.

I've been thinking that maybe he's been a little paranoid lately. Like maybe he's been over-thinking things. I mean, more than usual. And then this?

But this latest thing has me really concerned. He says he keeps seeing this guy in the back yard. Usually early in the morning. Big bushy beard ... doing something in the dirt near the trees. But when he goes out to talk to him, he's gone. And at this point I don't really believe him. But then again what if there is somebody out there? Forget sleeping. So then he says the guy reminds him of Moses. And so I ask him, "Moses? Like, from The Bible?" And he tells me no, that this is another character from a story he wrote in college. And my stomach kind of turns when he says it. Because there's no irony there. And I'm hoping it will be there. But it's not. And he says something about how he never got that guy right. And I'm not sure what he means by it.

Now he's getting up earlier and earlier and he's walking Honey sometimes even before the sun comes up.

Anyway.

I'm just worried. About him. About the thong. About Moses. About all of it.

This was definitely a bad week to quit smoking.

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