This week’s important lesson for you: Never, ever tell a lie. Lying is bad. It’s immoral. It’s sinful. And bad for your mental health.
And —- even more importantly — you’ll forget you told an untruth and get busted. That’s embarrassing. (Not that it’s ever happened to me.)
Remember that George Washington said he could not tell a lie. But then, that whole story was a lie. Really. Truly. Invented by his first biographer to flesh out the story.
And, really, sometimes you do have to prevaricate a bit, right? Just little white lies. Or at least cream colored. Maybe oatmeal. Or beige.
Here are some important examples:
- You need to tell the missionaries that come to your front door that you already go to church. (You’re going to hell for that, by the way.)
- You need to tell little kids in your life about the tooth fairy, unless you’re just a mean person.
- You tell your hostess that the roast beef was delicious, when it fact it tasted like the haunches of a decrepit water buffalo that had died of old age.
- You tell your mother … well, in my case, almost anything because she was an obsessive worrywart who would latch onto the slightest hint of distress and pester you with it until one of you was in the grave
- You tell your neighbor that, no, you didn’t notice her coming out to get her paper in her underwear, but you like the new blue satin ones.
- You tell the police officer that you have no idea why he pulled you over, when in fact you were going 110 miles per hour getting away from your ex’s house.
- You tell the person at the dog rescue place that yes, you’ll make sure your new pooch sleeps on satin pillows on the bed next to you and eats only freshly prepared dog food you cooked yourself from choice cuts of meat.
- You tell your doctor that, yes, indeedy, you’re walking for 90 minutes every day, just as you were instructed.
- You tell your friend that you absolutely love, love, love her new hairstyle that makes her look like a demented poodle on amphetamines.
- You tell that person you bump into at the grocery store that of course you remember his name. Why wouldn’t you? Even though you’d swear you never saw him before in your life.
- You tell your ex that you’re so happy he’s found new love with the 25-year-old bimbo in the tube top, and the third time is bound to be a charm. And, by the way, you’ve found love too, with your athletic trainer who has a degree from Harvard.
- You tell your grown daughter that she looks great in that party dress that reminds you of an ice skating costume, only shorter and tighter.
- You tell your boss that you have to leave work early because you think you might be coming down with Crimean-Congo Haemorrhagic Fever, when you really just need to get home before the kids do so you can hide the box of See’s Candies from them.
- You tell the bossy church lady that you really wish you could help sort rummage items at 6 a.m. Saturday morning, but that’s when you deliver Meals on Wheels to shut-ins.
- You tell the washing machine repairman that your house isn’t usually that messy but you’ve had the bubonic plague for a month.
I still remember walking into a neighbor’s house who had three small boys, and marveling that everything was as spotless as a hospital operating room. After the third time that happened, I finally asked her, “Why is your house so clean? You have three normal boys who destroy things just like my kid does?” She answered, “Oh, my housekeeper just left.”
This made sense to me, except that it kept happening. I couldn’t always be picking up my kid right after the housekeeper. Finally, she came clean. “I have OCD and I can’t stop cleaning,” she confessed to me. “I clean all day long. I’m just embarrassed to tell people.”
Now, this was the first time I’d ever heard anyone say they were embarrassed by how clean their house was. But it just proves that people will lie about the oddest things.
I was an adult when my mother married for the second time, in a small ceremony at the courthouse. I asked her what kind of celebration she wanted afterwards. “Oh, nothing,” she said. “Don’t go to any trouble.”
Now, having known my mother most of my life, I knew this was a lie. So I made sure and got her a wedding bouquet and a cake, flowers and decorations for when we got back home afterward. She was delighted and I knew that there would have been hell to pay if I’d actually listened to her.
Is there a moral to this story? I think I started out to give you one, but then I had to rush out and take Lil Wayne to the dog groomer early. Because I’m afraid of her.
Let’s just say don’t lie about burying a body under your back porch. Or hitting someone’s parked car and leaving a note that says “Everyone who’s watching thinks I’m leaving you my phone number, but really I’m just saying sorry.”
Most everything else, it’s between you and your conscience.