About once a week, I get a phone call from my mother like the one I got today.
"Hello. Your father is insane."
Whereupon, I inform her that this is not news, and ask for specifics.
"He's changed all the locks. Would you like to know why he's changed all the locks?"
Of course.
"Because there were locks on sale at Ocean State Job Lot."
I scan my memory quickly for any reasons why he might change the locks. It's been awhile since I've had a truly dangerous and deranged boyfriend, and anyway, I don't live there anymore. Did they have a break-in?
"No, the locks didn't need to be changed. Ha, ha! Silly girl. The locks were just fine. But these were on SALE, you understand, and so clearly, he had no choice in the matter. He had to buy them and spend half his day off installing them. Your new key is hidden in the usual place, of course. It's in a plastic sandwich bag. Which were also on sale at Ocean State Job Lot."
She paused. "I just hope you appreciate the lengths we're willing to go to, to provide you with material for your journal."
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
No comments:
Post a Comment