Although I dare not say it out loud, I am very quick to blame others if things do not go to plan or become misplaced.  It is something that I am not at all proud of so when a friend of mine shared with me the following confession this week, I felt I just had to share it with you too.

Not so long ago, my friend was trying to make an attractive arrangement of a series of family pictures to hang up on his living room wall. Being a very practical person, he had carefully cut out a set of paper templates, each one representing a different picture. After much arranging and re-arranging, he had finally settled on an appealing pattern and had laid it out on the living room floor.  But before he could complete the job he had to pop out to collect an urgent document from the local town hall.  When he returned the house was full of the sound of pop music and his daughter’s laughter.  “Hi girls” he shouted up the stairs but before they could reply he saw that his pieces of carefully cut paper were scattered out all over the floor. Some had been trampled on; others crumpled up and some torn into pieces. “Girls get down here immediately!” he yelled.

“Who did this? I spent hours getting my templates arranged just perfectly and now look at them!”  His two daughters jointly protested their innocence.

“Well one of you must have done this, there’s no one else in the house and we don’t have a dog or a cat. So if it wasn’t you then someone must have broken into our house and done it. I am sorry but I have no other choice than to call the police and report an illegal entry!” 

At this point the younger daughter was so terrified, she said “please don’t do that Daddy, I do not remember doing it but I guess it must have been me, I must have somehow slipped over and spoilt them but I do not really remember!”  

My friend was furious, how on earth could his daughter not know for sure and why didn’t she simply admit it? And why couldn’t she simply own up and explain how they became so crumpled up?  As you can imagine, there was a very bad atmosphere in the family household, seldom had he been quite so upset.  

Three days later, he was working from home when he heard a strange whirring noise coming from the living room.  It was then he remembered his robotic vacuum cleaner.  At first he stood dead in his tracks and then he ran over to it, switched it off and carefully inspected its programmed schedule:  15:45 every, Monday, Thursday and Friday. That was exactly the time he had left the house three days earlier!

Have a good week,

Harley