Lies eat away at your soul

I was headed to church one night and Mark calls me as I am pulling out of the driveway…

Mark:  Hey, where is the peanut butter?  Didn’t you say that you just bought some?
Marie:  Yeah, it should be on the bottom shelf of the pantry… that’s where I put it anyways.
Mark:  Yeah, I looked.  I guess I’ll look again, I just wanted to make sure this peanut butter even existed…
Marie:  You just need to look harder… good luck! 

Yep, the peanut butter existed.  I was sure of it.

And when I got home that night, I personally found the peanut butter… in the backseat of my car!  I had taken it to work for lunch and had just tossed it into my car.

Should I tell Mark I had had the peanut butter the whole time?  Or just nonchalantly slip it back into the pantry?  What would Jesus do?

I went with non-chalantly slip back into the pantry option.  (I don’t believe this is what Jesus would do, he would never have had the p.b. in his car… because he would walk, and was cool with bread alone)

I thought very little about it, and then Saturday morning happened…

Mark:  Hey!  Where did this come from? (holding a jar of peanut butter)
Marie: (thinking) Do I tell him I snuck the jar back in?  Or act like it’s been there the whole time?  Why am I having an inner dialogue about this? Tell him the truth.  Tell. him. the. truth.  What would Jesus do, Marie?
Marie:  It’s been there the whole time… you mean you never found it that day?
Marie: (thinking) I’m so going to hell.
Mark:  No it hasn’t.  This was not here that day.  I promise!  This is crazy!  Where did it come from?!?
Marie:  Man, I don’t know, I guess you just didn’t look hard enough…

I don’t know what the heck was wrong with me, either.  I was lying to my husband about peanut butter!  This was maddening.  But if I came clean now?? Now I’d have to admit that I snuck the peanut butter back in and I’d have to admit that I lied about something so stupid.

Oh the tangled webs we weave…

Marie:  Um, Mark?  I have to tell you something…
Mark:  What’s up?  Something wrong?
Marie:  Yeah, you know how a little bit ago… I, um, said that… gosh this is hard…
Mark:  What?  You ok?  You can tell me…
Marie:  Yeah, I know, it’s just hard, ya know?  Um, well, it’s about… the… um… peanut butter.
Mark:  The peanut butter?
Marie:  Yeah, I, um, lied? (yes, I said it like it was a question)  About the peanut butter.  You aren’t crazy.  I took it to work and forgot.  And then I snuck it in.  And then I lied again 15 minutes ago saying you just didn’t look hard enough.  I’m sorry.  I know it isn’t what Jesus would do, but I did it anyways. Please forgive me!
Mark:  Yeah, it’s cool… you ok?  It’s not a big deal, I’m just glad I’m not nuts!

Things we’ve learned, boys and girls…

Marie lies about stupid things.
Marie can’t lie for very long.
Men cannot live without women.  (Seriously, who calls to ask where the peanut butter is???)

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2 thoughts on “Lies eat away at your soul

  1. Secret Agent CT says:

    It aggrivates me when Thomas calls me about stupid stuff. It makes me think he wouldn’t survive if I wasn’t around to help him.

    The other night, he went to the pet store to buy Coco (our dog) some treats while I was still at work. Coco’s 1 and 1/2 and has always eaten these same treats. They come in a purple bag and are very basic. Anyway, he called to ask me if he should buy the bigger bag or the smaller bag. Then if he should buy the same size treats we normally get or buy a larger size. I told him to buy whatever he wanted. I didn’t care and I’m sure that Coco would most likely eat whatever you give her. He pressed me on the bigger bag or smaller bag question. I was mean and told him to buy whatever he wanted. It would be okay either way. After I hung up with him, I thought to myself, what if I called him on every little question I had during the day. It would be nuts but would he think it was normal?

    He also calls me into the kitchen to ensure that whatever he’s doing in there is correct. Ie. oven temp, done-ness/browned, minutes of cooking, etc. It’s really ridiculous.

    Sometimes I think being a wife is really being another form of a mother.

  2. […] not returnable.  I needed another way out of this mess, and lying was my best bet.  I had easily lied about small things, surely I could lie about big ones as well.    I would tell him it had cost half, no, a quarter […]

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