I don’t feel like I’m with you. And I say, You know what? That was your mother’s gripe, too. And she was right. And you’re also correct. When you cop to something, you get to the next level. In this case, the next level is: I just learned something from my twelve-year-old.
The selfish and usually pointless approach is to try to get both done simultaneously – accomplish your work at hand while begging forgiveness of those close to you while you’re basically working in front of them during what could’ve been specifically ‘quality time.’
I am stressed because once I am flattened out so thin to be able to slide under a doorway, I may never be able to ever be unflattened so I could be regular sized again.
It’s 103 comedians, or however many it is, and how would everyone tell it. It’s enough people of substance that it makes you think of the people who aren’t there that are alive.
