One of my all-time favourite stories. To preface, Lindsay had been dating her first boyfriend for a while, (you may have read the post when we had "The Talk") and we had recently paid a lot of money to have raccoons removed from our attic.
So, one day, after the usual routine, I received a phone call from my husband. He sounded quite distraught as he began the conversation with "I've been worrying all morning about how I'm going to tell you this". Great, my mind goes to the worst-case scenarios, and I ask for clarification. My husband responds with "This is going to upset you...". This just keeps getting better and better. Finally, he reveals the source of his anguish, and he squawks almost incoherently, "Raccoons tore apart the garbage in the garage and when I was cleaning it up, I found a used condom" he gulped. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I yelled. "How the hell did the raccoons get in the garage?" "Did you not hear the part about the CONDON?" He retorted. My only response was "Do you think they are in the attic as well?"
But by now he's totally lost the plot. "Why would there be condoms in the attic? They would have been in Lindsay's bedroom". Now it was my turn to lose it. "Not condoms, the fucking raccoons. Did they get back in the roof?" ". Rob by this time can only be described as apoplectic. His little girl is gasp, having sex and I'm only concerned about marauding raccoons. I really don't know why he was so surprised, it's not like he wasn't bumping uglies when he was Lindsay's age. That versus how much it cost us the last time the raccoons invaded our attic. I think my concerns were far more realistic.
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