By Michelle Potocko

In a very unusual turn of events, I find myself home alone on a dark and rainy night. I am not completely alone because the dog and the lizard are here with me, but to my knowledge I am the only human being in my home.

Typically being alone would be a luxury, but on this night I could be in extreme danger. I recently watched a show about alien abduction and because I'm home alone, I could be abducted by aliens. Everyone who was abducted appeared to live alone because they did not bring anyone from their homes with them to testify as to what happened. Please forgive me if in the middle of a sentence, I either just either stop writing altogether or I start describing my own abduction. Should I get abducted, I am certain that those aliens would dump me out of the spaceship once they get a closer look at me.

I am desperate need of a manicure; my finger nails looks awful. My hair could use some highlights; it's a little lackluster. I have had a toothache for two weeks and should make an appointment to see my dentist. Those aliens will take one look at this tattered old broad, stamp the word "reject" on my torso and send me home.

I was not supposed to be here and while I am happy for this alone moment, I am writing this column under deadline; something I rarely put myself though because I don't like doing anything under pressure. Thanksgiving dinner pretty much puts me over the edge. Way too much food needs to be completed simultaneously.

Every year, without fail, John always miscalculates how long it takes for Tom Turkey or Helen Hen to be plump and juicy, so everything else (which falls under my domain) is never ready when he announces that the turkey is done.

If you are a turkey-lover, you know that placing turkey into a microwave to heat it dries it out, so our Thanksgiving dinner is hot and cold. Goldilocks would not enjoy Thanksgiving with the Potockos.

Over the past week, I had a number of good column choices, but I did not write any of them down, so I forgot what they were. Now I'm stuck and it's the 11th hour.

My mom told me to take a vitamin that is supposed to help with memory. I take one vitamin Monday through Friday, but the recommended dose is two per day. Instead of taking 14 per week, I only take five per week. Hence, I only remember 36 percent of what I'm supposed to remember. Those alien abductees must take the recommended dosage of this vitamin because they remembered every minutia of detail of their terrifying experiences with the aliens.

Tonight I was supposed to go with John to our son Alex's school for Back to School Night. We always go together, but not this year. I sent him out alone; armed with nothing more than a small pad of paper and a pen that may not even work. He wanted me to go. I told him he could stay home and write my column for me. He promptly left the house. Earlier, while on my way home from work, John called me to invite me to relax by the fire while he rubbed my back. He was somewhat giddy because Alex was headed to football practice. He forgot that he had to go to this school function. He also forgot that I had to write my column. Maybe he should take that memory vitamin. I would remind him, but I can't remember to do that.

As soon as my humans left the house, I made preparations to welcome the aliens. I made a big pot of pasta. I figure they have traveled a long way and may be hungry. I sampled it to make sure it was just right. It was and even Goldilocks would have approved. Should the aliens not eat all of the pasta, Alex will have something to eat when he returns from football practice. Hopefully someone will return home soon because the longer I am home alone at night, the greater the risk of alien abduction.

As if on cue, Alex walked though the door; soaking wet and freezing. Off to the shower he ran. Moments later, John returned from his school event. Little did they know, they both just saved me from an alien abduction.

Share your own snappy repartee with Michelle Potocko at: theconsciousmother@gmail.com.

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