My friend Jean could fall in a bed of roses and come out smelling like cow manure. Best of all, she couldn’t resist telling off on herself. After having three babies in four years, she somehow decided she needed a little romance, though why anyone with three babies would encourage that behavior was a mystery to me. She took the children to her mother for the night and hurried home to fancy herself up for a steamy night. Having read an imbecilic article suggesting meeting your guy at the door with a rose in your mouth wearing nothing but cellophane, she decided that was the very thing. She showered, did a daring style and bit of a color job on her nether portions and perfumed herself enticingly. Just before her man was due home, she started at her ankles and wrapped herself in plastic wrap. This was unfortunate, as it effectively hobbled her. She waited by the door, rose clenched between her teeth. Though her husband was usually punctual, this day he was late. She waited in anticipation for several minutes till it was obvious he was late. Tired of standing, she hopped toward the sofa, still clenching the rose. Since she had toddlers, a malicious Lego was lurking in wait. Propelled forward, nosediving the sofa arm. Blood gushed. She grabbed the nearest thing to staunch the cascade of blood and somehow got herself up on the sofa. In agony, she lay there, trying not to scream as every heartbeat pounded in her damaged nose. As the pain abated a bit, like any mother of three toddlers, she went to sleep.
She was awakened by her horrified husband standing over her. “Oh My God! What happened?