Sometimes It’s Not My Fault

I am usually the first person to admit fault in anything. Out of sweetener? My fault I forgot. Dead flowers? My bad for not checking the water. Dog had an accident? Oops…. forgot to let her out in time. I don’t mind accepting the responsibility, since most of the time it is easily rectifiable.

Except when it comes to my sister. It’s her fault everything she borrows from us gets ruined.

But there is a line that I do not cross. I won’t take the blame for something that I never did. A few evenings ago, Hubby and I were in bed watching TV, because there was a Monk marathon and that’s one of my jones. Anyway, he soon tired of it and decided to turn on his side, facing me, to go to sleep. Unfortunately, he didn’t notice that my leg was curled up facing him.

Hubby: *whimpers loudly*

Me: Are you ok??

Hubby: *gasps* That really hurt.

Me: What?

Hubby: You kneed me in the….

Me: WHAT? No I didn’t! I haven’t moved!

Hubby: Yes, you did…. *whimpers*

Me: No, I didn’t. You nutted me in the knee!!

Hubby: *stunned silence*

I would never, ever damage fruit of his loom. That’s like cutting off the heels to a pair of Louboutins because you tripped over your shadow. Makes absolutely no sense. So yes, sometimes it’s NOT my fault, and he should deal with the consequences 😉