My wife and I have open lines of communication. I eavesdrop on her phone conversations and she reads my Blog. But we have trouble getting on the same wavelength. On October 7, 2021, she read about the ketchup prank our granddaughter Zofia played on me and asked if this actually happened and if so, was it a long time ago. I wondered where she had been because the ketchup stains were the talk of the household that very week. And why did she think I would make up something so innocuous. Yet if I write that my Uncle Hector grew a third head in his armpit, the conversation goes like this:
Mol: Who is Uncle Hector?
Geoff: Surely you remember him. He was the one arrested at our wedding reception for setting fire to the juggler’s car.
Mol: We did not have a juggler at our wedding.
Geoff: Right, Hector set fire to the car at the Bachelor Party but he was arrested at the wedding reception.
Mol: Why didn’t you tell me you had a juggler at the Bachelor Party? I thought we agreed not to keep secrets from each other.
Geoff: I had to sign a confidentiality agreement. Technically we now have to give up our third born son which is why I am breaching the agreement.
Mol: Is Hector the one married to Aunt Mary?
Geoff: Who is Aunt Mary?
Mol: Don’t you remember? She smashed your hand into a plate of ketchup at our wedding reception.