“Can I come in?”
Feel free to catch up here
“Wait a minute.” I call out to Jakob. “When did you go to Dunkin?”
Jakob froze in his tracks. He glanced up at the top of the steps. He was almost there. So closed to sweet freedom. So close! His head dropped in defeat. “Uhhhh…just now.” He offered up reluctantly.
“But, you didn’t ask me to go, did you?” I asked. Yes. I was leading the witness, your honor.
“No.” He sighed.
I was doing my best Cinderella (Cinderelly. Cinderelly. Night and day, it’s Cinderelly Make the fire, fix the breakfast. Wash the dishes, do the mopping), ironing my work clothes (Yes. I iron my clothes. It’s the biggest pain in the ass. And if you tell me to just buy wrinkle free clothes…I tell you that wrinkle free/wrinkle resistant clothes are a total and complete farce. And dry cleaning? Please. If I had that kind of flow, do you think I’d be giving away my talent for free?) in the laundry room, when Jakob comes in, looking rather grim. “Dad. I gotta tell you something. But, you’re gonna get mad.”