Mostly True Memoirs

No Signs of Responsibility

We had our first rain of the season.

I was very pleasantly surprised to find, early this morning, an old towel on the floor by the dog door.

The Grown Son had thought to wipe the dog’s paws.

“Look!” I exclaimed to The Husband, “Signs of responsibility!”

Bob laughed.

And laughed and laughed and laughed.

“That was me,” he said, “I had to let the dog out in the middle of the night.”


Never mind.

The Grown Son has not shown any signs of responsibility.

At least as far as housework is concerned.

Speaking of which, we are down to three spoons.

I’m guessing the rest of the set is under his bed.


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