Sins of the father

DATELINE — Tuesday night.

As I’ve done all but three or four Tuesdays in the past two and a half years, I worked. Tuesday is the night we do layout for the fabulous Braidwood Journal. If you haven’t read my paper lately, please do so! Small towns bring a wide amount of controversy. It’s fun!

Anyway, I generally get home on Tuesday’s late enough that the boys are all in bed, but not so late that it is obnoxious. This past Tuesday I rolled in right around midnight, humming a little Lady Gaga, ready to hop in bed and have a great snoozer. So I click open the garage door, and this is what I see:

I can hear you all now. What Marney? A car and a rust stain and some random toys crushed into the back of the garage.  WHAT?

Look closer:

Those are George’s socks. On the floor. IN THE GARAGE.

For piss sake.

It is utterly and completely hopeless.


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2 responses to “Sins of the father

  1. LOL! Marney you might as well give up or get that pain for them as sock like on the commercial…that is real right?

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