You will never hear the end of it!

“I’m just so glad it was you who let the dogs out,” my husband said as we searched frantically for our run-away puppies. “If it had been me, I’d never hear the end of it!” Oh, how right he was; and may I just say – truer words have yet to be spoken.

My parents bought my younger sister a car for high school graduation. When I graduated, I received half of a ten speed bike. Yes, I had to pay for the other half. They have never heard the end of it.

Once, I forgot to put bananas in the banana cream pies. The subject of pies cannot be brought up without every family member reminding me of the banana-less, banana cream pies I made as they drove me crazy one Thanksgiving Holiday. I will never hear the end of it.

Another time, I spoke in whale after a few glasses of wine. My kids have since requested whale talk from their mother every inappropriate chance they get. It’s guaranteed; I will never hear the end of it.

“If I have to rescue you one more time,” my neighbor complained, “I swear you will never hear the end of it.” We understood. It isn’t his fault the gas gauge on our boat no longer works and we always think the empty tank is full.

“Don’t throw that ball in the house! You break anything and I’m not kidding, you will never hear the end of it!”

“You be careful with my new car. Anything happens to it and I promise young man, you will never hear the end of it!”

“You screw up this opportunity; you will never hear the end of it.”

“If I’m late one more time, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

The list goes on and on for a life time. And unfortunately, we will never hear the end of it!

Later,

Mary Ann

Similar Posts

  • Sigh

    My lower back is aching, can’t even bend down to pet the dogs. My mind takes an additional cup of coffee to wake up. Focus. Focus. There’s so much to do. Prioritize. I suppose that’s the key. Making a list and checking it twice. Oh, no! The holiday season is upon us. Have I given…

  • The Grandma’s

    My father’s mother was Italian. She was really old the day I was born and realy old twenty years later on the day she died. My Italian Grandma wore a dark dress every day of her life, a dark knitted shall, and support hose that came up to her knees. Her shoes were sensible black…

  • Music to My Ears

    I can’t imagine a world without music. Nothing compares to the soothing serenade of a well played violin or rag-time tunes as they dance off the keys of an old piano. Nothing gets under my skin and into my blood like the sweet crooning of a saxophone or the rich vocals of  folks like Roy…

  • Rainy Days Blues

    Sog and bog, muck and yuck – it’s a normal Western Washington winter. And unfortunately for so many of us, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) is a real thing that rears it’s nasty head every winter, right about now. The joyful holiday season is behind us, we were blessed with a magical white Christmas, now all…

  • Strange Encounter

    “Well, look at you!” A voice from the past interrupted my thoughts. “Blonde now, huh? Couldn’t face the gray?” I smiled and put a name to the vaguely familiar voice and face. “Debbie! (name changed to protect the villain) How nice to see you.” I unconsciously brought a hand to my hair. “Yes, easier to…

2 Comments

  1. Every family has a story or two we will never hear the end of it. Kelsy’s is that she had the entire Little Tykes kitchen and dishes BUT NO FAKE FOOD to play with. She is almost 30 and still guilts me on it.

Comments are closed.