It just wouldn’t be Christmas if I wasn’t staring at a brown bottle of urine.
In my dad’s defense it could actually be a bottle of Arizona iced tea in the trunk of his Chevy but knowing my dad and how he never stops for bathroom breaks, chances are good it might be pee.
Dad sent me to the car to look for his Santa hat.
I searched the first car.
I looked under fifteen pairs of pants.
I moved a tarp.
I moved a tarp.
I tossed a side old soda cups.
I wondered what that smell was.
I wondered what that smell was.
I looked in the truck.
I moved jumper cables and a Tommy’s burgers bag that looked like it had housed a burger or two a week ago.
Still no hat.
Finally car number three had a giant Santa hat in the trunk ( I left the bottle of possibly urine behind.)
We spent the next few hours opening gifts with my brother and his wife, putting Santa hats on cats, stuffing cats in Santa hats and eating fettuccine Alfredo with sun dried tomatoes and pine nuts.
Hours later my mom jumped in my Subaru to head to the candle light service at our church.
As soon as she opened the door and saw Five Guys Burgers wrappers on the floor boards, sunscreen stains on the seats, dirty running socks littering the carpet, empty Cliff bar wrappers and Gatorade bottles (empty! No pee!)
And she was comparing me to dad!
My Subaru might be coated in mud ( both inside and out, mountain cars) but I don’t usually pee in bottles.
I’m not Dad.
Not yet.
Comments
Sometimes, he buys bottles of apple juice, and forgets which are which
Please say that is not a true story!!!