Daughter: So you were probably wondering why there are jeans in the floor.
Me: Yes, I did wonder. I figured Pete had something to do with that.
Daughter: No, that was me.
Me: And?
Daughter: Well, I was running late this morning (note: it was yesterday morning) and decided to stop at Wendy's on the way. I don't know what happened but somehow my drink wound up in my lap and all over me.
Me: hehehehehehehehe uhm, I mean, damn that had to suck.
Daughter: Yeah, well, no way was I going to work with mushy pants so I drove back, ripped the mushy jeans off and put some new ones on.
Me: Ahh, so in the rush you didn't have the time to hang the wet, mushy jeans in the bathroom to dry. Leaving them on the floor near a common area closet, exposed to 2 cats and a dog was the best choice.
Daughter: Well, yeah.
Me: So, you think you could pick them up now?
Daughter: Sure and if you're looking for the glass cleaner stuff, I've got that. I got hella sticky stuff to all over the car to clean.
Me: mmmmkay.
Note: It was made clear the car was not in motion so no danger to herself of anyone else. I was glad it was Tuesday and she goes to work much later in the morning, closer to lunch than breakfast, so a cold beverage, not hot.
Note to daughter (should she ever read here): this is a freebie since the story of me walking into that glass door is such a fan favorite among all your co-workers.
Please share the walking into a glass door story. Pleaseeeeee :-)
ReplyDeleteI'll guess at the glass story...
ReplyDeleteYou were walking towards the door but looking behind you because you were talking to someone, then you turned around, because the door was so damn clean (and you had just turned around) you ran right into the door. The sandwich in your right hand flew one way. The wine in you left hand flew the other way and you fell back on your butt.
Not that I would know what running into a glass door is like. Just speculating.
Inertia clings hardest to that which lies around for more than a couple of hours. It is for this reason that the pot of rice on the stove left over from two night ago is still there.
ReplyDeleteIt's the dog's at this point.
Love EB's version, but hoping you're give us the REAL story!
ReplyDeleteYeah, give that one up!!!
ReplyDeleteI tell you mine so that you can tell yours. Ok, picture this, Chicago, circa 1977,(Yes I remember when as it causes me trauma to this day, but I digress) I am at the movies with a classmate. We are exiting as the new crowd is entering. I am walking and talking to her about the movie, looking back at her as we walk. I turn around and BAM!!! Forehead first into the shiny, plate glass window. I don't know what hurt worst; my forehead or the laughter and finger pointing. Ahh, good times...Not. Ok, Deborah...Go
ReplyDelete