Yeah, I’m sure they didn’t think twice coming over at 7 in the evening. We have kids and whatnot. Welp, not this time folks. The kids were otherwise occupied and we stole away to do the things that married adults who are attractive (I only picture attractive people having sex. That’s a lie. I don’t picture anyone having sex. Not even myself. Ick!) do. The sex.
|Yeah, I know where I got this.|
Knock knock knock. Casey runs up the stairs with a very loud THUNK THUNK THUNK. No way to tell him to not answer the door now. It’s too late. They’re inside and Casey’s taking them upstairs. Too late for us to make like we were showering or ANYTHING other than what was going on. We throw on clothes without underwear and stumble in the hall to see two bright eyed 19 year-olds waiting for us. Both went pink in the face when they realized what they had done.
Ugh. On top of all of that, my house was a WRECK. I was more embarrassed about that than getting caught. It’s been too damn hot upstairs to clean anything, and beyond that, I’ve sort of given up on cleaning up Abby’s toys. Or dishes. Or bathrooms. Or anything at all.
So there we were. Sitting in my filth pit of a house, underwearless, my shirt on backwards with sex hair and mascara under my eyes. They stayed and made uncomfortable small talk for thirty minutes, bless their hearts. I LOVE the missionaries. I can’t think of anything harder than to go from door to door trying to tell people about the gospel you love only to get rejected far more often than not (I get pissy for DAYS after someone say something terrible about me or my blog. I have no spine. I also have no right ovary, but that’s none of your damn business) And these kids do it with a big, bright smile on their face. I LOVE them!
I just wish they’d call ahead.