The other night I was invited out for a night with the girls. I told my husband that I will be home by midnight, I promise.
Well, the hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easily. Around 3 a.m, a bit loaded, I headed for home.
Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hallway started up and cuckooed 3 times. Quickly, realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times.
I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution, in order to escape a possible conflict with him. Even when totally smashed… 3 cuckoos plus 9 totals= 12 Cuckoos MIDNIGHT.
The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told him MIDNIGHT… he didn’t seem angry in the least. Whew, I got away with that one.
Then he said, “We need a new cuckoo clock.”
I asked him why, and he said, “Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, uttered some swear words, cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and fell.”