First, let me tell you how it really went down: It was 6:50am in the morning when I was hanging some towels outside on the clothesline. I had on raggedy-ass stretchy pants, some kind of scary-looking grandmaw sweater, and sneakers with no socks (do not judge my early morning fashion). That’s when, after 3 times of telling the dang kid to take the trash to the curb (as if he listened?), I heard the trash truck coming. So I dashed across yard, ran passed the garage, and scrambled wildly to get the trash can to the curb. I did all of this with my clothes on, of course.
But this is what my insubordinate, non-chores-doing kid told the rest of the greedy family: “Mom was outside nekid, hanging up clothes. And then she started running across the yard all crazy for no reason.”
See how stuff gets twisted. Did I achieve a running speed so epic that my clothes peeled off from sonic-boom mileage per hour? I am here to clear my name. You believe my side of the story, don’t you?
He didn’t do the dang trash and then tries to deflect the issues off himself by accusing me of nekid. Place your bets right now on if this kid gets grounded or not.