Buxom Swedish Hitchhikers, Liberace and the Tax Man.

Tis raining and one is stuck inside doing nice things for one's husband.
Whilst it would be nice to be doing nice things to one's husband, one is in fact doing the BAS statement so that the nasty Tax Man doesn't send husband to the Gulag.
Actually Humphrey has been behaving in a disconcertingly husband-like manner lately.  My enjoyment of his new-consideratenessedness is marred only by the uneasy feeling that the earth may in fact have shifted off it's axis or the someone has discovered that Liberace actually had a wife and six children in Idaho.
I've been taking some time off from my usual occupations (curing cancer, perfecting the hydrogen engine and learning several ancient Arabic languages) so this has left me with time to contemplate my navel and wonder why Humphrey would suddenly be so nice to me.
There are a number of possibilities:

1. He is dying.
2. A buxom Swedish hitchiker became lost on her journey to Alice Springs, wandered into our backyard and is currently acquainting herself with my kitchen, clothes and bed (or Humphrey has her chained naked in the cellar).
3.Humphrey has won Lotto and is waiting for his visa application to Honduras to come through.
4. He has hatched a cunning plan to murder me and dispose of my battered body in the local meatwork's sausage machine.....and he will never be caught.
5.He is planning to join the Hare Krishnas.
6.He has discovered that sheep are not that bad after all, especially Mary, the one with the pretty eyelashes and comely backside......and they are running away together......to Honduras.....with the hitchiker.....and all that money!!!
7. He is dying.
8. He has become a close friend of Mr Marijuana.
9. He has discovered that he is actually God and being such a chick magnet his Messiahness has attracted a legion of devotees and he now has a harem, of Swedish hitchhikers.......and sheep.
10. There is no ten but it seemed awkward to stop at nine and ten is such a nice round number.

I may not have covered all bases here folks, so if you can think of any other reasons my husband might actually be being nice to me, please, let me know.
Oh, and Humphrey, if I do actually find blonde hairs (or wool) on my pillow it will be closely followed by the strong odour of gun-powder and a visit to the sausage factory.

Today's post has been bought to you by the Letters P, M and S.