Circa January 2012
Before I left the career world to stay home with my girls we were able to afford a cleaning lady. She would come once a week and I would step into my home and feel a wonderful calmness rush over me, and I was happy.
As with most families the rules are many but one usually tops the list; don’t throw balls in the house.
Well, I came home and asked Steve what happened to the yellow vase I loved that typically sat on the shelf in the kitchen? This was a special vase to me. It was cheap but a little old lady I adored gave it to me so the value was untouchable.
He acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about. Hmmm very suspicious.
One- he isn’t a good liar and two- he acts like a boy.
Well well well. Look who was still there cleaning. The cleaning girl totally ratted him out. He (him- grammar geeks what goes here?) and the girls were not throwing bouncy balls or rubber balls or even tennis balls. They were throwing golf balls.
END. OF. STORY.