On Saturday, Mel and I went to look at a house. We’d looked at it a few times before the last time it was on the market a few years ago, and really liked it; so we thought we’d go check it out again.
The house has a second-level walkout deck overlooking the back yard, right at the top of the stairs. After the visit, this conversation ensued.
Mel: “So, Helen, did you like the house?”
Helen: “Yeah, it was awesome.”
Mel: “What part of the house was your favorite?”
Helen: “The frickin’ roof. I frickin’ loved that frickin’ roof. Frickin’ mom and frickin’ dad. Frickin’. I just love to say ‘frickin’.'”
It could’ve been much worse.