I'm Sorry, 1034 Hall Street

Can you believe Christmas is this weekend?  I. Can't. Wait.  Excited kids and good food and elastic waistband pants and sleeping in and staying up late and wine.  Yippee!

Like us, many of you might have celebrated some kind of Christmas last weekend.  The Son had a basketball tournament, so Current Husband's Dad and Stepmom and younger sister came down for the day to see it and have our Christmas.

The Son's first game was at 8:30.  Thrilled that I had to wait for CH's Dad to arrive, and thus could sleep a little later, I missed out on the first game.  They were supposed to arrive around 8:30 a.m., but that came and went and no Dad.  It was inching toward 9 a.m. when the phone rang - it was CH's stepmom, wanting Youngest Daughter to stand in the yard so they could remember where we live.  We moved a year ago, and they've been here once, but their Garmin was still programmed for the old house, which is about three blocks away.  The Stepmom was laughing so hard I could barely understand her; she said they had something to tell us.

They pulled up in front and walked in the house.  It turns out that CH's Dad really had to use the bathroom, but they were so close he figured he could wait.  By the time they pulled up to our house, he REALLY had to go, so he jumped out of the car, ran to the door, and rang the doorbell repeatedly.  He started yelling, "C'MON JULIE, OPEN UP, I REALLY HAVE TO GO!"  Then he gave up on my getting to the door on time and....

Oh Dear Lord.  He peed in the back yard. 

Just in time to figure out
that it wasn't our house.

They jumped back in the car and took off down the street, where they saw Youngest Daughter, turning blue and jumping up and down.  They came in the house, where The Dad told me his story, and pointed out that, according to the front of his jeans, he didn't even completely make it to the back yard.

People of 1034 Hall Street:
Let me take this opportunity to apologize.  I know it wasn't a pretty sight to look out of your kitchen window, take that first sip of coffee, and see a strange man pissing in your yard, but his prostrate is weak, as is his willpower to turn down pots full of coffee when driving three hours.  He means well.  And if, by chance, he happened to say our last name or address while wetting himself on your front step or back yard, please stop by and pick up your complimentary bottle of Gruet.

You Deserve It.