Take it from Hula that extra second or two that it takes to double check the phone number you’re texting is worth it.
Last night Teen Angel was on a date. I texted her , telling her to alert me when she was on her way home so I could put on more clothing before she and the new beau came into the house. I did this because back in March she brought the last boyfriend into the house unexpectedly one night when I was in my pajamas, and I spent thirty minutes in conversation with the boy with an open book slapped across my chest so he wouldn’t realize that underwear is not always a priority in our home.
When my phone dinged with a reply last night, I clicked on it to find, to my horror, a message from the youth minister at church letting me know that I had sent HIM the message about the clothing, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t meant for him. Apparently, he had sent me a message about bible school earlier, and I had opened it up without realizing it when I was composing the underwear note to Teen Angel. Great Gertie! My face hasn’t been that red since that unfortunate Playgirl pinup in the locker incident my senior year of high school.
While the youth minister jokingly threatened to work this into an upcoming sermon, all I could think was that if that dadgum Eve had just eaten something ANYTHING other than an apple this clothing thing would not be an issue.
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