Hog WashPosted: March 28, 2014
Mom got a small box in the mail today. It was from Publisher’s Clearing House. When I handed it to her, her response was, “What’s this?” She always feigns ignorance when she gets something she secretly ordered from PCH. This is all part of the game the two of us play. It goes something like this:
- The doorbell rings and I answer it.
- There’s a box or large envelope laying on the porch.
- I retrieve it, then close and lock the doors.
- I look at the mailing label and roll my eyes.
- I walk into the living room and hand it to her.
- She asks me “What’s this?” and I tell her it’s her Publisher’s Clearing House order.
- She pretends she has no idea why they’re sending her stuff in the mail and I don’t pretend to believe her.
A few minutes after I delivered her latest package, she called me back into the living room. I figured it was to show me what she got, claim she ordered it to benefit someone other than her – me or Bill or the grandkids – and to hand me the invoice so I could write a check for $17.95. That’s what everything costs that she orders from PCH. $17.95.
As I walked into the room, she was waving a green box in my direction. I braced myself, waiting to hear who was going to be the beneficiary of this particular purchase, but she surprised me and changed tactics.
“Here,” she said, handing me the box. I glanced at the label, which read ‘Hog Wash’ and slowly exhaled. “I asked you about these,” she inserted quickly, before I could say anything.
“What do you mean, you asked me about these? Asked me what?”
“If I could order them,” she replied, waggling the bill at me with her other hand.
“No you didn’t,” I argued.
“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I did,” she mumbled, fiddling with the empty shipping container resting on her lap.
“Mom, I think I would remember if you’d asked me about ordering pig sponges. Somehow, I don’t think I would have said Oh, sure, we really need a box of pig sponges… you should order some,” I commented drily as I took the invoice from her and headed back to the office to write a check.
“Well you might have!” she called after me. “Stranger things have happened.”
“That’s a given around here!” I yelled back.