Every Saturday or so the Jehovah Witness people stop by. I'm never home and the hubby is sleeping. So they usually just slip the pamphlet under the screen door of the mudroom. We promptly leave them there until they become a nuisance and then they get recycled. We used to throw them in the burn pile with other paper stuff, but somehow that just seemed wrong. I kept waiting to be struck down by some unseen hand or something.

Today, the hubby came home from the store, and he was limping.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I slipped on one of those Jesus magazines and just about blew out my knee."

I don't know why I found this hysterical, but I did. Karma maybe?