I can’t really be mad about it, because I seem to recall my own indiscretion when I was about 15. It had to do with an iron and my mom’s new couch. Any guesses what happens when a hot iron is set down on a polyester couch for a few minutes?
An iron shaped hole, that’s what.
My mom? I think she was channeling a saint, because all she did was laugh and flip the couch cushion over. Her only comment? “Don’t tell Dad.” (I should really check with my mom and see if she has a picture of that.) So, being mad about the hole is out, and karma is real.