More truthful words were never spoken as came from the lips of Rose Castorini when she learned that her daughter was to marry the rather awkward and unsexy Johnny Camerari.
I love my sons beyond reason and they approach their responsibility of “driving me crazy because they can” with a zeal and vigor one rarely sees outside of evangelical revival meetings in the American South.
Joe College had driven me up the wall, across the ceiling and down the other wall last Monday morning and as a result, I went a little psycho-mom and kicked a hole in the bathroom door.
Nice work, no?
Usually on a Monday morning I’m swanning around in these babies, doing little jobs around the house:
This particular Monday morning saw me up with the birds and out walking the dogs in appropriate dog-walking footwear:
which I did not exchange for the comfy scuffs when we returned because I was just too busy to be bothered.
If I’d been wearing the comfy scuffs, the idea of kicking the bathroom door would never have crossed my mind. Same goes for the hooker shoes:
But no. I was wearing hiking boots. All I did was give the door a little kick in anger and look what happened:
I blame shoddy modern building materials! If it had been a hardwood door, I’d never have put a hole in it, but then again, if it’d been a hardwood door, I’d probably be hobbling around on crutches right now.