I don’t jump to conclusions. I make lunging, flying leaps to conclusions.

Last night I put the kids to bed and then went downstairs to the basement to enjoy the relative coolness. After a few minutes, I heard suspicious noises so I came upstairs. As I was walking up the stairs, I could smell something burning. I got to the kitchen and there were my three little piglets, standing around and trying to look innocent.

It smelled strongly of burnt something so, I went in to hyper-drive. I was sniffing everything to find the origin.

“What are you three doing?” I asked sharply. “What is that smell? Are you playing with something you aren’t supposed to touch? Did you stick something in the toaster???”

I charged around the kitchen, looking for an appliance, seconds from bursting in to flames.

“Go back to bed,” I insisted. “I need to figure out what you’re burning! It stinks!”

The children scattered as I continued my quest.

Then I caught something out of the corner of my eye.

The neighbor. Outside. Sitting next to….

A grill.

Oh.

Oh crap.

The window was open this whole time and, given the proximity, I know he heard every word.

Oh. Jeez.

Awkward.