An Honest Explanation

Today was a good day, didn’t do a whole lot. This afternoon and evening I went with a friend over to Fairview Heights to do some shopping. When I got back home, Amy confronted me about something. Apparently, I had a receipt that had been in my pocket and was laid upon my dresser. The receipt had a girl’s name and phone number written on the back. The receipt was from Lone Star, and was dated April 2. In her loving way, Amy said, “I was just a little curious about this receipt.” Honestly, I was at a total loss for words. This looked rather incriminating. I had absolutely no idea where in the world this came from, and how I came to have it in my pocket. The girls name (we’ll call her Jane Doe) looked to have been scribbled on the back rather hurridly. Now, from a husband’s point of view, any guy in this situation would look guilty. Why did I have a piece of paper with a girls name on it and her phone number. It might just as well have said, “Give me a call cutie,” thank God it didn’t! I knew there had to be an honest explanation for this, but I totally could not think of one. I did not want to act guilty, but everything I said just made me look more guilty. I looked at the date, and immediately gave my alibi. “That was a Sunday,…I wasn’t at Lone Star that day, remember we all went out to eat that day at the Pasta House?” Amy quickly replied, “Well, you were at Chilli’s that day, but she could still have given you the number, that has nothing to do with it.” Wow, was she ready. I knew right then and there I was in deep trouble if I could not figure out where this came from. “Perhaps it is someone from the church. Maybe someone gave me their number for something.” As if on cue, Amy quickly grabbed the church directory, “nope, no Jane Doe‘s in the directory.” (Something told me she had already checked out that one) I was now starting to sweat. Here is where it gets really sad. The absolute best I could do was to attempt to convince Amy that I must have opened my door someplace, and thinking I had dropped a receipt out of my car, accidentally picked it up, not noticing that it had a girl’s number on the back. I mean, I really hate to see liter on the ground. How lame is that? I knew the chances of that happening were like getting struck by lightning. Had the situation been reversed, I would have laughed at that pathetic explanation. “That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it” I thought. Then, when my humble wife finally said, “Well, I trust you,” It came to me. Jane Doe is the person who came and looked at the car I had for sell. She had made an offer that I did not accept. She said, “If you change your mind, here’s my number.” I must have placed it in my pocket and forgotten about it. An honest explanation at last. (By the way, Amy had already looked in the phone book and found out where Jane Doe lived, so my she can check this out for herself if she needs to, which she agreed she didn’t since she was at home when Jane came to look at the car, and she saw Jane, and well, enough said).

So I guess the moral of this story goes something like this: “Trust stands alone, but an honest explanation provides a more stable platform for it to stand on.” Or maybe, more simply, “Clean out your pockets before you send your pants to the wash.”

Thanks for reading, and remember, “INTERRESING CATCHY END LINE TO GO HERE IN THE FUTURE!”