I was being good. I know, I know, I can hear you now all chuckling and trying not to spew your coffee or tea, but I was really trying to be good!
I realize this has nothing to do with my story, but well, it's cute!
Hoss had asked me (maybe more than once) to please work on sorting and cleaning in our room. So Sunday, my sweet man, went into work to catch up on a few things and I thought, I will surprise him. I will do as he requested and clean up our room. See, I was being so good.
I had finished Hoss’ side of the room when I decided I would clean out my dresser. No problem, it so needed to be done. I get all the way through the drawers except for the bottom one. You know the one, where Bertha and her cohorts reside? Well, I had to shoo children out and lock the door. I should have made an announcement. Like seriously, a public service announcement with the use of a blow horn or loud speaker or something. I really should have declared loudly the basement off limits. You know there are certain things in hindsight that you think, “Hmmm, really should make sure I’m not interrupted.” Yes, well, now you tell me. The thoughts came a little too late.
I did have the little slide lock we use on the door, so I thought I was safe to begin my reorganizing. I did have everything fun and dare I say, sexy, as well as toys and everything laid out on the floor. Sorting and trying to rearrange them to fit better in the drawer, with a few regular jammies that I never wear to cover them, of course.
(For those of you who are wondering, no I am typically not suppose to go into this drawer on my own. Seems he felt that hiding certain implements warranted this rule way back in the beginning after a particularly unpleasant run in with Bertha, but I had permission to do this organizing or I would not have been in there. See, I do learn from past mistakes, I really and truly do!)
I was busy rearranging things when my horror of horrors occurred. I had just placed the implements away and had zipped up the bag that held the smaller toys, when I heard urgent footsteps running down the stairs. I knew before I could yell that one of our sons was about to hit our door hard. Just as he slammed into the door to open it and it was on it’s way to being flung open to reveal my bounty of treasures, I yelled. Well, it was more literally that I screeched at him to stop as he busted through the shabby little lock that held the door closed.
Thank the good Lord, that I had already neatly folded up the fun lingerie and it appears no different than the regular pajamas bottoms they laid next to. Our son had the door halfway open and I yelled for him to shut it and go upstairs while also scolding him for not knocking (a definite rule for our room). I am about 99 percent sure the poor boy did not see anything, but so help me my heart was in my throat and I was fuming!
I tossed everything back in and went to remind said son that he was not to run in the house and definitely to knock before trying to break the door down!
So, I call Hoss in a bit of panic. What does that man do? Did he express sympathy at this horror of horrors? No, he did not! He did what the rest of you are likely doing right now! Yes, he laughed his head off at me. Sheesh, no sympathy I tell you. None at all.
Now, I’d love it if you have a story of being caught in the place of horror of horrors to share. Leave it in the comments below. I’d love to hear them and to know that I am not alone in my misery of a trip to the land of Horror of Horrors!