By Loren Moore
The other day as I walked into the kitchen, I tripped
on one of Johnnieís shoes. She is all the time leaving her shoes setting
around where ever she kicks them off.
In a little while Johnnie came into the kitchen to fix
supper. I had been sitting in the den reading a book when the doorbell rang,
and I laid my book on the coffee table when I went to answer the door.
It was the paperboy collecting for the newspaper. I
told him to wait a minute and I would write him a check. I got our checkbook
out of a kitchen cabinet drawer, and a pen and sat down at the coffee table
and wrote him a check. I left the checkbook and pen on the coffee table and
walked back to the door and gave the boy his check.
As I walked back into the den the telephone rang and
Johnnie threw down her dishrag and answered it. She told me it was Pat and
he wanted to talk to me. I told her I would go in the office to take the
call. Johnnie's dishrag had missed the cabinet and fallen on the floor. She
didnít bother to pick it up; she just grabbed another off the towel rack.
After Johnnie got a casserole in the oven she walked
over to her lounge chair in the den and picked up the newspaper. She sat
down and started reading the paper. Then she saw our checkbook lying on the
coffee table. She threw the paper on the floor and picked the checkbook up
and came into the office.
I had just hung up the phone and Johnnie shook the
checkbook at me and said, "How do you expect me to keep this house clean
when you just throw things down anywhere?"
"I havenít had a chance to put the checkbook up yet,"
Johnnie stomped off back to the kitchen to check on
her casserole. I followed along behind her. When she got back to the kitchen
she threw the checkbook on the cabinet counter and opened the oven door to
look at her casserole. I picked up the checkbook and put it back into the
drawer where we kept it.
After checking the casserole Johnnie turned around and
was still giving me heck about leaving things lying around instead of
putting them up. I pointed to Johnnie's shoe lying on the kitchen floor,
then to the dishtowel, and then to the newspaper and asked, "Is the kettle
calling the pot black?"
Well what her answer was would be a whole nother story
for a different time, but you really donít want to know what it was so I
wonít write it.
© Copyright 2004