Last night Dean left his truck in the “pasture,” the big flat area down at the bottom of our driveway. He’d borrowed a trailer to haul some stuff and he didn’t want to back the trailer up our steep, winding driveway. As we walked up to the house, he said, “I’ll drive the Honda down to my truck in the morning.”
Me: “Drive? It would take all of a minute to walk.”
Dean: “Yeah, but it’s dark when I leave and there could be bears.”
Me: “I take the dogs out after dark every single night.”
Dean: . . . . .
Me: “Keys for the Honda are in the basket by the phone.”
Sure enough, this morning the Honda is down in the pasture. I noticed that when I took the dogs outside first thing this morning. In the dark.
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