Mischievous

While I was passing a colleague in the hall yesterday, being my usual Southern self, I made eye contact and smiled at him and he said, "What have you done?" To which I replied, "What do you mean?" And he said, "That mischievous smile - you're up to something." Then we erupted into laughter.

Mischievous was my word when I was younger. I used to get myself into all sorts of trouble and then try to hide it (quite unsuccessfully). One example of this is when I took a bottle of black hair dye and poured it all over the yellow shag carpet. When asked rhetorically, "Who did this?" The inevitable answer was, "Not me." It was always me, I have no siblings. My punishment was always to sit on a stool in the corner and think about what I had done. So, it got to the point that when I did something wrong, I would go sit in the corner. When my mother would come over and ask me why I was there, I would say, "I'm sorry Mommy, I didn't mean to do it, and I'll never do it again." Then Mom would have to go around the house and try to figure out what exactly it was that I had done. It is quite possible that there are still some things she may not be aware of.

So, since she reads this blog on a regular basis, I'll go ahead and say, "I'm sorry Mommy, I didn't mean to do it, I'll never do it again." That, and I think most of what I *may* have done is already painted over.