LAST NIGHT, 9:45 p.m.
SCENE: THE LIVING ROOM
Charlotte and Eric are kneeling by the couch, getting ready for their evening prayer. (This generally doesn't happen until at least 10 or 10:30 p.m., but Charlotte has her early-morning-work-out-of-death-class on Friday mornings, so she goes to bed a little earlier than normal on Thursday night.)
CHARLOTTE (snuggling up to Eric endearingly): You know, I hear it's supposed to be nice this weekend. Maybe you'll be able to get the shed door fixed, huh?
ERIC (confused): What? It's not supposed to be nice this weekend, it's supposed to snow! Actually, they say it will probably be bad weather for all of next week!
CHARLOTTE (a little deflated): Oh. Well, I didn't really even check to see how it would be this weekend. I just said that so I could talk about the shed.
(In case you were wondering, once I learned about the weather report, I withdrew my request/demand that Eric fix the shed this weekend. I know, amazingly magnanimous of me.)
Shed image courtesy of ollielowe