Has anybody ever played a practical joke on you at exactly the wrong time, with entirely unexpected results?

I was in our garage today, cleaning (more on that later), while arguing with my husband. Stupid, really. I was upset with him for still being unshowered and unclothed when I had told him earlier this morning that we had a full schedule today. He was upset with me for being upset with him. The circular nature of the argument was getting us nowhere, and we were just getting more and more frustrated and tense. At the height of it, Eric shut the door to the garage, leaving me in there alone. I continued cleaning. Then he flipped out the lights from the switch outside of the door.

I screamed. And screamed. It was one of those hysterical, horror-movie screams that just wouldn't stop, couldn't stop. Even after he turned the lights back on and open the door, dumbfounded, I screamed for a few more moments.

Now, I'm not afraid of the dark. The garage door switch was right next to me, and I could have opened the door to the natural light at any moment. I've never been that prone to hysterics. So why couldn't I stop screaming? For that matter, why did I start? Eric asked me why I didn't just open the door, and all I could say was, "I wasn't thinking rationally."

I hope our neighbors weren't too freaked.

Anyway, I was cleaning the garage to make room for our new (ta-dah!) chest freezer. Now I have the power to take advantage of a great price on turkeys by buying ten of them. Or something like that. What I'd like to do is cook in bulk, so as to avoid the "I'm tired; let's eat out" syndrome that affects us at least five days out of seven. It seems like it would be harder to ignore a fully cooked tuna casserole than the unassembled ingredients. Or maybe I'm being irrational again by assuming that we, like the proverbial leopard, can change our spots.

Because while I am not usually prone to irrational hysteria, I can be quite predisposed to irrational thinking when trying to blind myself to obvious, unpleasant answers. I think most of us have that capability, but some people, like me, practice it to a fault. Not one I'm inclined to work on, though. I rather like closeting myself in my fantasies. And, contrary to what the fatalists would tell me, I'm not all that frequently disappointed.

Or maybe I am, but I've irrationally refused to acknowledge it? Hah! That's my fun thought for the day!