While settling into our hotel suite, which shall be our home for the next three days, I decided my hairbrush needed a good cleaning before I could, in good conscience, lay it out on the counter before Sister Pam, Dad, God, and everybody.
Sister Pam came into the bathroom looking for the waste basket in the usual hotel room place.
Puzzled on not finding it, she said: "Keetha, isn't this strange? There's no trash can here. Isn't this where they usually put one?"
"Hmmmm," says I. "That IS really strange. I've never been in a hotel room that didn't have a trash can there. Where do you suppose it is???"
I began thinking about calling down to the desk and asking for a trash can for our bathroom.
Sister Pam, ever the problem solver, found the waste basket in our bedroom and brought it out saying, "Don't you think we'd rather have this waste basket in the bathroom than have it in our bedroom?"
I agreed, relieved that I wouldn't have to call the front desk.
She went about her business and I continued cleaning out my hairbrush. When finished, I picked up the trash can to put it back on the floor, nearly ramming it into the one Sister Pam had just placed there.
Peals of laughter all around.
NOW you know JUST who you're dealing with here.
(Pssssst - - - I posted two posts back to back, don't forget to read the one just below this. I mean if you WANT to and all.)