The Hiding Place
November 2015 | Our Personal Stories

The Hiding Place

His wife would never think to look in the woodpile. Then he got caught red-handed

Whenever I’m asked to speak at a meeting, I get to tell the story about the bottle in my hand. One day when I was drinking, I was stacking firewood on our woodpile when I came across one of my half-empty rum bottles, the clear lemon-flavored kind that people “can’t smell” on your breath. The moment I picked the bottle up (to hide it somewhere else, of course), my wife came out the back door to tell me something and saw the bottle in my hand.

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