You throw like a girl

Yesterday morning I got a call from the husband just as I dropped the terrorist off at his grandma’s, to remind me that for the second day in a row, I had left the house with his wallet in my handbag.
So I get my knickers in a knot and put my car in gear and speed of towards his office in Century City, all the while cursing him and the cursed wallet under my breath.
I get there and he is standing on the balcony smoking.
We are at an empasse.

He is unable (read: unwilling) to come down without putting  out his satanstick and I am unwilling to go into his office, because simply put I have brought the fecking wallet far enough and he can damnwell come down and fetch the thing.

“Throw it” he says.

Incredulous I look at him.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes”

Doubtfull I decide to do as the man says.

“I am warning you, I doubt I will be able to throw it far enough.  Just now I throw it into the CEO’s office”

“No, don’t worry his office is next door, just throw.”
<You know you get those moments were you see something happening and you realise that is not what you intended but there is absolutely no way to stop it-well this was one of them>

As soon as the wallet left my hands I knew I threw short and with a ‘plonk’ the wallet landed on the veranda below the balcony.
Of course by this time I was in a fit of giggles.
“I hope that is still your offices?”
“Hmm, yes. but don’t worry I will get it just now”

On my way to my office he calls me.

“You won’t believe this, the only way to access that veranda is via the CEO’s office”

I was in such fits of laughter I had to end the call.

 

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