After registering for his high school classes, my son burst into the house, filled with excitement. "Dad," he announced in one breath, "I got all the classes I wanted. But I have to have my school supplies by tomorrow. I need a protractor and a compass for geometry, a dictionary for English, a dissecting kit for biology—and a car for driver’s ed."
My wife ran away with my best friend. A year later both of them were at my front door ringing the bell. They rang the bell for an hour straight. Reluctantly I answered the door.
They said they wanted to apologize for the way things happened. Boy, was I relieved, I thought he was trying to bring her back.