I took this picture while we were visiting my parents a few weeks ago. This is a jug that I remember them having for my entire life. It held the door open in our den that was at the end of the hallway.
When we were little, my brother and sister and I would sometimes run from one end of the house, starting in the kitchen, through the dining room, down the hall, and then we would dive onto the couch in the den at the other end of the house.
It was great fun until my brother thought it would be funny to hide this jug between two of the cushions when it was my turn to jump.
The inevitable happened. It really hurt, but I didn’t realize how bad it was until I saw the distressed looks on my brother and sister’s faces. I pulled my hand off my forehead and it was dripping with blood.
I can’t remember how many stitches I got at the hospital, but I sure did get a lot of sympathy mileage out of that one. My brother was my pawn for months.
Look– after about 30 years my blood is still on it!