You know, for a long time, I didn't understand why a benevolent and loving Flying Spaghetti Monster would want to put me through the trial of owning and maintaining a father-in-law like the one I have ("bad-shit crazy"). One bone of contention early in our relationship was his insistence that he be allowed to run a driveway across our front lawn so he wouldn't have to walk so far to get to his front door. The whole thing became a fairly massive dispute not because my wife and I refused the request (we didn't), but because we didn't acquiesce right away and cheerfully (we were clear that our agreement was a compromise for the sake of family peace).

Years later, it's still the sort of thing that gets raised as evidence for why we're such terrible people.

But now I no longer have to wonder what, if any, purpose is served by putting up with all the nonsense on the subject. At long last, the answer is plain.

You see, some nutter that my father-in-law has pissed off (and he pisses off just about anyone he comes into contact with) has decided to start seriously pranking him. The pranks revolve around my father-in-law's car, like putting wet glops of permanent ink on the door-handles or piling shards of broken glass behind the tires, pouring broken glass into the hood or letting the air out of the wheels in the middle of the night.

Naturally, as soon as I heard about this I ran out to check for piles of broken glass behind my tires or stuffed into my bonnet, but there was nothing to be seen. And that's when it hit me: whoever hates my father-in-law doesn't hate me -- just him.

Suddenly having two driveways makes all the sense in the world: it makes it easy for my father-in-law's enemies to avoid collateral damage!

Callou callay!

Of course, I had been concerned that my father-in-law would blame me for the dirty tricks since he seems eager to ascribe to me all the worst characteristics and motives his beady little brain can muster, but for whatever reason I don't seem to be a suspect. Apparently the list of people who hate him is long enough that there are culprits he deems more likely, so at least for the time being I fear no retribution.

(And, for the record, I didn't do it.)

I was also a little unsettled when I realized that someone was sneaking onto my property at night to commit this mischief, but then I understood that I shouldn't be, because we're on the same side. Any enemy of my father-in-law's is, at least in some respects, a friend of mine, ranged against a common foe.

So, it's true: the Flying Spaghetti Monster does have a plan.

So say we all.