I know what you're thinking - "Oh, geezus... here comes another rant about Glenn Beck." Your cynicism is understandable since I've never tried to hide my disdain for his particular species of rat - Beckus dickheadus. But I'm talking about another kind of rat today. The kind Tony Soprano would mention. A snitch. A stool pigeon. A rook. A tattletale. A squealer. You get the idea. You see, someone sang like a canary to Linda about an unspeakable act I committed. Although, to my defense, it was completely unintentional. Nonetheless, I subscribe to the school of thought that if nobody saw you do it, then it didn't really happen (or at least you can't be blamed for it). Unfortunately, this thought process doesn't hold water if a 3-1/2 yr old toddler actually witnesses you commit said act. So what horrific act did I perpetrate?
Well, it started out innocent enough. Part of my role as primary caregiver to Claire includes various housekeeping duties - vacuuming the floor once a month, dusting twice a year, cooking with bacon seven nights a week, and remembering to take the garbage to the curb on trash day only AFTER you hear the garbage truck driving past your house (it's true - we have about 3-weeks worth of trash piled up in the garage). And of course, there's laundry duty. Now sometimes these tasks are intertwined, as was the case one particular day last week.
While doing a load of laundry, I noticed the mud room rug needed vacuumed. So, I created a pile of non-laundered clothes in the corner of the room and proceeded to vacuum. Things were going along swimmingly, and that's when it happened. The vacuum made a horrible sound and stopped working. I flipped it over to investigate and discovered that I had accidentally vacuumed up a pair of Linda's nylons. By the time I got them out of the vacuum brush, they were shredded. Remembering how Linda once told me that nylons are insanely expensive relative to the actual value they provide, I naturally buried the shreds in the trash immediately. I'm sure torn nylons are chic if you're a goth girl, but not so much for insurance company management. Anyway, days passed and I actually pushed the incident out of my mind. Then one day out of nowhere Linda asks, "Did you vacuum up a pair of my nylons?" What could I do? I pride myself on my ability to lie my way out of uncomfortable situations. It's true - somewhere in the world there's an overly aggressive (and underly attractive) girl who attended the U of SD who thinks I'm gay. Luckily, she also thinks my name is Lance Manyon, but I digress. I just can't lie to Linda, so I confessed and stood ready to take my punishment. Luckily, she just laughed and said, "Claire told me all about it. She said the vacuum ate my nylons."