
I was invited into the house of a client of my mother yesterday. I was made to take my laceup sneakers off at the door (oh the annoyance). My Mother then showed off her client's santa claus collection, the number of which i regret to say, could
not be counted on one hand. Nor two. Toes were involved.
Then a tour of the residence was in order. We looked in at her husband, who i presumed had the flu, as he was lying in bed watching a DVD. I said hello. He seemed nice, though I could not make out his physiogonomy as he was lying under the duvet.
As the tour of the house continued the following exchange occured between myself, and the client whom we shall call Mrs L.
Mrs L:
indicating to an empty area near the stairs on the ground floor. "And this is where we are going to install a lift."
Me: "Why on earth do you need a lift?"
secretly thinking you damn lazy housewife, why the hell do you need a lift?!? Is that expensive, designer vacuum cleaner too heavy to carry up a flight of stairs?Mrs L: "My husband is a tetraplegic."
Me: "Oh"
awkward silence Me:
cough.Me: "Well I guess that explains it."