Confession time. Again.
There is a very nice couple who live in rural VA that I would like to be friends with. They live an adorable house, on a great piece of property (next to a haunted cabin) and have the sweetest dog. However, every time I have been in their acquaintance I have royally screwed up, thus preventing our relationship from extending beyond “You were invited because we knew your spouse in college.” I have apologized on this site for mucking up their parties, weekends and other fêtes in the past. Never anything disastrous, yet always highly annoying/inconvenient.
My most recent trespass against them was the accidental removal of their only corkscrew. I absentmindedly slipped it into my pocket after opening a bottle of wine and didn’t realize I had filched the thing until I washed those pants several days later. Blast. I had behaved so well while I was there. (Except for showing up muddy and covered with paintball welts asking for a shower, but I considered that endearing) And the next weekend, it turned out, they had family in town with several bottles of wine and no way to free the drinks. They were forced to borrow an opener from a neighbor. Double blast.
I was terribly embarrassed by my theft and was not willing to admit it to anyone past the G and K. But several weeks later I realized a return car trip would bring me a few miles from their house. I brought the corkscrew with me and late one night I left the devilish thing on their doorstep. I didn’t bother to knock as it was late and the house was dark.
Oh, how I ran away. On tiptoes, to my headlamp-dimmed, idling car parked half a block away. I know, far from brave or honorable. I mentioned the haunted cabin, right?
But I double backed for proof.
I have lived in shame for weeks. But some beans were spilled this past weekend and there may be some unwarranted focus from this spoliation directed at an innocent person. It’s time to come clean. So apologies to J. and T. and A. and their little cats too. You have your corkscrew back, plus a few scribbles. I’d be surprised if I am ever invited back to your wonderful home but if I am, god bless, I promise not to ruin anything more.