Gotcha

Temptation bested me.  Without a doubt.  Categorically.

After his leukemia diagnosis, but before his hands stopped working, I walked into Tate’s room and found him sitting at his desk writing.  He seemed fine, and I left him to it.  Eventually we moved his desk into the garage to make room for a bigger bed.

Last night I working out in that same garage, and I was kind of cleaning up some stuff between sets.  It wasn’t the most intense workout, but I have lasagna-ed myself back into my fat pants, and it felt so good to be lifting some heavy stuff.

The moment my eyes landed on Tate’s desk, I completely abandoned exercise, cleaning, and evidently my conscience.  Without a scintilla of hesitation I pulled the notebook he had been writing in from the drawer and opened it.

I knew I shouldn’t.  I knew how I would feel if someone did that to me.  I also got what I deserved.

Page 1:  Hello

You’re either my mom or Clark

Please don’t go on

Ah, you won’t listen to me, turn the page already

Page 2:  Ha

Page 3:  Gotcha

Tate doesn’t read The Daily Dwayne, but I told him he might want to check out today’s post.  I feel like he should know I sprung the trap he set and that I am publicly admitting it.  Busted!