10. You get a threatening note composed entirely of
letters >cut from a magazine with pinking shears; they're all of uniform
size >and font, and precisely lined up in razor-sharp
rows. > >9. That tell-tale lemon slice in the dog's water
bowl. > >8. On her show, she makes a gingerbread house that is
a >perfect replica of your split-level, right down to the
fallen-over >licorice downspout and the stuck-halfway-open graham
cracker >garage door. > >7. You find your pet bunny on
the stove in an exquisite >tarragon, rose petal, and saffron demi-glace,
with pecan-crusted >hearts of palm and a delicate mint-fennel
sauce. > >6. The unmistakable aroma of potpourri follows you
even after >you leave the bathroom. > >5. You discover
that every napkin in the entire house has been >folded into a
swan. > >4. No matter where you eat, your place setting always
includes >an oyster fork. > >3. Twice this week, you've
been the victim of a drive-by doilying. > >2. You wake up in
the hospital with a concussion, with endive >stuffing in every
orifice. > >. . . and the Number 1 Sign You're Being Stalked by
Martha Stewart: >1. You awaken one morning with a glue gun pointed
squarely at >your temple.
