While apartment shopping with Jennifer today, we saw an attractive apartment-manager-type-lady stroll past. She wore regular work clothes, plain and unadorned, with these amazing black stripper heels. Her makeup looked as if 'twas applied by a stripper clown, and I commented cattily, "Wow. Even I don't wear that much makeup."
Allie replied, "No, you don't look nearly as bad."
So, this is the usual speed with which I am judged in life. There is seldom a three-year gap wherein I can soak self-righteously, gradually and gently working my way toward comeuppance.
I, apparently, gave permission somewhere at the Christian sign-ups for this built-in shock collar.
(Though often I bark right through it.)
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