This morning there was evidence of mischief in the night. The bread bag had been nibbled through and someone, or something had helped itself to a midnight snack. Probably not my son after six hours of exams. He would use the twist tie. 

The chickens are not finicky and gobbled up the bread. None of us wanted it anymore. I will set traps for the culprit tonight. Being a vegetarian I wish I could just post a small sign and they would leave our food alone. But that doesn't seem to suffice. If it were only one mouse, I could tolerate it. But there are always more. Always. 

Deceit eats away at relationships in a way that is distasteful. One of the endearing qualities about autistic people is that they are disinclined to lie. If I ask Ben about the empty ice cream carton the closest he gets is a sheepish "I'm not sure."

When I was little one of the card games our family played was I Doubt It. I was not very good. The heaviness of misleading my brother and sisters showed up on my face like a sunburn. 

When deceit first invades a marriage it is small. Secret. Almost innocuous. A misleading response about where you were, or what you bought sneaks in and out before you wake up. But it rarely stops there. Undiscovered, lying breeds more lies. Sometimes we set traps, by asking a question that we already know the answer to. Then the facts snap down to bite you. 

When the droppings of dishonesty appear it is time to clean it up. Whether the lights are on or off, the damage is done both to the person being deceived and the one concocting the deceptions. And lies are like rodents. There are always more. 

Always.