"You May Not Want To Rush Home."

I was just about to leave work today, and I'm chatting with some of my favorite ladies when I get a text from Bob that reads, "You may not want to rush home."

I opened the attached image to find this:



Now, I'm posting this for a couple of reasons. The first reason is because these types of "incidents" are what started this blogging craze of mine. If you are new to my blog please read posts past. If you are a veteran of the blog then you might need a good laugh or a reality check, so please feel free to review. The second reason is I want to remember this forever. My husband took care of everything, as always. "No complaints" (past post, as well). Third and most important reason for blogging this is to document my mother's reaction...

Let me begin by saying this is not the same woman who raised me. It just can't be. I call to tell her the boys knocked a gallon of black paint off the top of some scaffolding in our game room, and it's everywhere. Her response? "Well, you're lucky it was just paint. It could have been a lot worse, Babe. It could have been one of the boys."

Who is this lady?! Friends, do you have any idea what would have happened to me if I were to spill a gallon of anything on her carpet when I was a kid...much less black paint? One time I snuck nail polish into the bedroom (huge no no), and my sisters and I were doing our nails. We were taking a rest, and the bottle spilled on the headboard (nickel size). Of course, Mom smelled trouble and came looking for the open bottle of polish. I have never seen her more mad than that moment.

It's official. The evolution has occurred. Pat Downing is a grandma.

I did fail to mention, I tried to get the polish off by scraping it with a metal cuticle tool.

Special thanks to Jesse's Carpet Cleaning for coming to the rescue. Beautiful work with a smile.