I get blamed for losing a tool, misplacing men’s shoes, putting away clothing, the mysterious breakages, blowing up something, or starting a fire.
To keep the peace I usually take the heat however, 5 % of the time I’m really not at fault.
The following vignettes could have been my disasters, but they weren’t.
They need recognition, just in case I set something on fire in the near future…
Scott and I were driving in his Pilot with the moon roof open.
He decided to clean the windshield.
The spray and dead bugs went over the top of the window, through the opening and landed in my hair.
I screamed. He laughed.
I’m glad my mouth wasn’t open.
Scott and I were about to take a short trip.
He was in the driver’s seat of the Pilot, engine running, and waiting for me.
I walked around the front of the car and by the time I got to the passenger side, he decided to wash the windshield.
The washer fluid and all the bugs swished into my face and hair.
“I can’t believe you did this to me again.”
Scott laughed so that his whole body moved up and down. “I’m sorry.”
“Next time, I’ll do the washing.”
Scott was driving my minivan and he reached up to adjust the rear view mirror.
It was summer time and about 100 degrees in the car.
He touched the mirror and it fell off in his hands.
I doubled over laughing.
His face showed panic and shock.
“I’m so glad it was you and not me.”
Scott took off his coat and tie, and went to the bedroom closet to hang them up.
He chose my side of the closet and the end of the wire shelving to hang his tie.
When he placed it on the end, the entire shelving unit, holding all my clothes and shoes, fell to the floor.
This was his version of being one of the Three Stooges.
I still had to clean up after him…
Have you been a part of the Three Stooges lately? I'd love to hear all about it. Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org
Have a Stoogless day.