Somewhere out there, on one of the many pages of the hypothetical giant multidimensional book that is the multiverse, there is another me, one that had a mid-life crisis.
It's a very different world that he lives in. For instance, Eastenders is seen as a realistic portrayal of life among the native Cockney tribe, a life of wit and banter and occasional gangland killing. The evening news is filled with material phoned in by the public (or as they call them "citizen reporters", and they have found a cure for the age-old problem of getting bored of the artificial odour in room fresheners by creating one that changes the smell every forty-five minutes. Oh, and the other version of me has slightly different feet.
Other than that, though, it's pretty much the same as here.
On Thursday evening, after work, my alternate self went home to his benevolent sidekick cat, Mr Twinky, and declared "My mid-life crisis is upon us, faithful sidekick! We need to fly to Barcelona! As soon as possible!"
"Meow," said Mr Twinky.
They blew most of their savings on the flight, enticed by the idea of travelling first class, travelling in style and arriving fresh and alert at their destination. Mr Twinky was surprised by the width of the seats and the ample leg-room in Ryanair's yellow and blue plastic first class podule. Of course, as a cat, Mr Twinky was easily impressed.
Once in Barcelona, my alternate self and his faithful sidekick cat took a train in to town, found a bar that would serve them liquor all night, and drank themselves in to a stupor. They woke up on the pavement in Las Ramblas with limited memory of the night before. They definitely remembered failing to get a taxi and they definitely remembered something involving dancing. They didn't seem to have lost anything, but almost all of their money had gone, so they treated themselves to breakfast with what they had left.
Eventually, they realised that there was only one option left.
"We need to fly to where we came from in the first place!" declared my alternate self.
"Purr!" agreed his Mr Twinky.
And so they got back on their luxury flight and went home.
Meanwhile, back in our universe...
Well, we did much the same as that, really. Only we didn't need an excuse. I have certainly not had a mid-life crisis. That'll be a relief then.
Are you and drD on the same stuff Mr Oddverse? ;)