I got up off the couch one day last week and went to the kitchen to make my lunch. What is important to know about this particular event is that it was nighttime when I got off the couch and the lunch I was preparing was for tomorrow. I got out the bread and the mustard and the turkey, and I made my sandwich. I then wrapped it up in a sandwich bag and placed it in the refrigerator.
When I returned to the couch, my beautiful wife stared at me as if I had grown some strange appendage from my forehead or something.
“What did you just do?” she asked.
“I made my lunch.”
“That’s what I thought. You have never, ever, never made your lunch the night before. What’s gotten into you?”
I just shrugged and did the standard “who, me?” bit.
Always keep them guessing, I say.