Insanity is Best Served in Slippers

While talking to my daughter Billie on the cell phone, she suddenly slung a compilation of swear words I can’t repeat as I’d have to admit she learned that unique grouping of words from me.

“Problem?” I asked.

Whispering, Billie informed me, “The PTO president just pulled up at the next gas pump and I’m wearing my slippers.”

“Dare I ask why?”

“I didn’t expect to get out of the car after taking the kids to school, but Egbert left the car on empty.”

“Didn’t I teach you to always be prepared?”

“NO – that’s the boy scouts.  You were the one who drove me to school in your robe.”

“I never stopped for gas.”  Sometimes I wonder where that kid got her brains.

“YOU WORE IT ON THE DAY YOU DROVE CARPOOL!”

“I was very secure in my appearance.”

“You were a candidate for therapy on more levels than Lindsay Lohan.”

Truth aside, I decided to bail her out. “Is Ms. President still there?”

“Yes, and she’s staring at my feet.”

“Tell her you are wearing your slippers because your feet are still swollen after having surgery to install permanent painted toenails that change colors under different lighting.”

“Are you insane?” I heard Billie sigh and then cover the phone as she talked to the PTO President.

“Holy Crap. She bought that bull and wanted to know what Doctor I used.” Billie laughed. “So, I told her it was still experimental, my cousin was the Doctor who invented it, and I’d let her know when it was available to the general public.”

“Aren’t you glad insanity runs in families?”

“Whose family?” Billie asked. “Hers or Mine?”