At Least I Wasn't Naked...

"MeeeeeeEeeeeeeeeEeeeeeeeEeeeeeeeEeeeeeeEeeeeeeeEeeeeeee annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Jones. We got a thingggggggggggggggggggg going onnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. And it's.... it's much tooooooooooooo strong to let. it. go. noooooooooooooow...." I sang into my parents' refrigerator. "We meet every..."

"Hello?" called my father, concern evident in his voice, interrupting my musical interlude.

I paused. My head still in the fridge.

I hadn't realized that anyone was home.

It was Sunday morning, and, on my way to their house, I had to drive past my parents' church. Their car was in the parking lot. I had assumed they were both there. I had, clearly, assumed incorrectly.

"Oh, hi, Dad," I covered, "I was just singing to myself." If I say it out loud, it is way less embarrassing and I can pretend like I am not remotely self conscious about having been caught.

"What are you looking for?" my dad asked.

"Breakfast," I replied and continued my perusal of what groceries they did have. "It looks like I am going to have to find that somewhere else though."