So Husband is on the kitchen roof when he calls and asks me to throw up the sweeping brush.
As an obedient wife I do as I'm told. The extra big garden brush you note.
I'd like you also to note the position of Husband's hands. He is obviously not expecting me to be able to achieve this.
And I don't. And the brush comes sailing back down. Straight into my nose. For an instance I think this is what boxers must feel like when punched in the face and I put my hands to my nose dramatically. Husband laughs.
As does Son-in-law when I tell him. 'Didn't you think to catch it or step aside?' he asks.
At this Daughter laughs. She knows full well where she gets her lack of co-ordination from.
I hoped I would have an enormous bruise for which I could gain sympathy and possibly chocolate but my nose stayed strangely pale though painful.