It was a cardboard box on a bottom shelf in our basement storage room. Judging from the dust, the container hadn’t been touched in 14 years.
My son-in-law was helping us clean out the junk in preparation for our move to a new place. As he pulled out the box, a 14-year-old faded handwritten label revealed itself — “Sex Toys.”
Him • “Oh my gosh. I thought you were joking about that.”
Me • “I never kid about church.”
This refers to Sunday’s column about moving to Herriman in 2003, when I labeled...
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