If you ever need to sneak off and call a psychologist friend for advice about your pecan phobic daughter, don’t do it in the driveway next to the patio where she’s laying tile. Window screens do not make particularly effective sound barriers.
Sheesh. As if it was my fault!
Halfway finished with the floor, I noticed an odd lump and realized that I had tiled over a remnant left from piecing around the door. I went off in search of a putty knife so I could pull the tile up and when I returned, my brother was trying to stomp it flat.
ME: That’s not going to work.
HIM: Dad said you need a break.
ME: It's probably a pecan.
HIM: Naw, you'd have noticed it.
ME: Not if it's a haunted pecan.
HIM: It didn't crack when I jumped on it.
ME: Because it's haunted.
HIM: Geez, you're whacked. Gimme that.
I handed him the putty knife and went to get my Diet Dr. Pepper from the table, but about the time I noticed it missing --
HIM: Found your pecan only it's a lizard!
ME: Not funny. Did you drink my Dr. Pepper?
HIM: He's road pizza.
ME: Knock it off.
But when I reached the patio my brother was studying the tile in one hand with a putty blade of lizard mush in the other. Then in his best Steve Irwin voice --
HIM: Crikey. His tail is still stuck.