We met some friends for Sunday lunch after church today. As we sat around the table, catching up on each others' news, one friend asked if we had gotten used to our no-longer-sunken living room yet, recalling the blog post where I told of some of the falls we experienced during the learning curve.
Then our friend told this story about another couple that she and her husband know:
One night, the husband noticed that several flying insects had somehow gotten into the house and were congregating around the ceiling light in the kitchen. The husband grabbed a can of insecticide and aimed it up toward the ceiling light. Mission accomplished. Sometime later, the wife entered the kitchen. The residue of the insect spray had fallen to the kitchen floor, creating an incredibly slick spot in the middle of the kitchen. When the wife hit that spot, her feet flew out from under her; and she landed with a thud.
Her husband came running into the kitchen, looked at his wife on the floor, and said, "What are you doing down there? Get up quick. I think a truck just hit the house!"
Sunday night, we went out with another group of friends following the evening Bible study. One of the ladies told us that, after she and her husband had spent a day with their grandchildren, the grandchildren reported to their mother that Grandma had called Grandpa a bad name. Surprised, the mother asked what the name was. The grandchildren said they couldn't remember but that it had something to do with a washing machine. The mother correctly guessed "Agitator."
Grandpa's new nickname among the friends who heard the story is now "Maytag."