When pressed for specific details about the person behind my avatar, I have tended to demurely employ a combination of ambiguity and evasion, peppered with the occasional flat-out refusal. Nevertheless, I have shared many deep truths about my inner self over the last year: my longings, my desires, my lapses, my mistakes, my dreams and, of course, my love of nachos and my family.
I have never willfully lied or mislead anyone here. I wish I could say the same about the real world, but that would be a lie.
Several years ago, we hired some bozos to renovate our new house before we moved in. We gave them a set of keys to the house, which they kept hanging in a hook in the garage. The garage was protected by an electronic keyless entry system attached to the garage door opener. In order to avoid using their brains in any way, the workers wrote the combination on the wall next to the keypad–that way, no matter which crew arrived first at the house first in the morning, they could get into the garage and retrieve the key.
This worked fine until the day the workers tripped the circuit breaker for the garage, disabling the electronic lock. Without the key to the house, I couldn’t reset the breaker, but without resetting the breaker, there was no way to get the key, which was in the garage.
What to do, what to do?
This wasn’t the first time that these brainiacs had locked themselves out of the house. However, since they had just finished installing the new windows, the solution they had used at least twice previously–breaking a window–was deemed less than ideal.
To my good fortune, one of the window panes in the garage was broken. I couldn’t possibly fit through the small hole in the glass, but perhaps someone else could–someone who could navigate the inky darkness of the garage, release the latch on the door from the inside, and let me in.
Eureka! I sprang into action. Quickly trapping a bevy of squirrels, I crammed them into a wriggling sack and then shoved the writhing, chattering assemblage through the hole in the window, which I then adroitly covered with a board. Realizing that they had no other means of escape, the clever creatures worked as a unit to unlock the garage door from the inside and open the door. As they emerged from their dusty prison, I was waiting. I grabbed the door and disabled the lock. From there, the rest was easy.
Or so my daughters earnestly believe. The truth is somewhat less interesting, and does not involve squirrels.
I confess that may have embellished the story somewhat when I told it to them. I didn’t really want them to know how to break into the garage (and I certainly didn’t want to reveal to them that I am a mutant with telekinetic powers).
My children also believe in Santa, although they are beginning to suspect that there’s something funny going on.
What fibs have you told?
You don’t have to reveal the truth. Just share the lies.
