The Pits

Recently my lovely niece and her rockstar boyfriend stopped by.  It was late at night, and they’d never been to Henry before.  They just barged in without knocking or calling or anything.  That’s pretty bold.  What if it was the wrong house?  Can you imagine?

About an hour into the visit, she finally got a little quiet.  Then came the confession.

“Sooo… ummm… when we arrived..?  there might have been…  a little… um…  incident..?   outside..?   in the driveway..?”

Huh.  That seems alarming.  And like something that should have been mentioned sooner.  So we all spilled outside, and doubled over in hysterics when we saw what she had done.

firepit destroyed
Immediate text to my sister: “Your daughter is here. Get me a new fire pit.”

The thing is cast iron.  Now folded in half.  And firmly embedded in the middle of the lawn.  Nowhere near the driveway.

Way to go, M!  Love you anyway.

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